


Lost for Words

by AGreatPerhaps12



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: American AU, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Families of Choice, Fluff and Angst, Insecure Liam, Liam bakes, M/M, Physical Abuse, Pining, Recreational Drug Use, Self Confidence Issues, Some bullying, Stuttering, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, anger issues, because why not, bromance to the max, copious Pink Floyd references, no abuse in Ziam relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-12
Updated: 2014-07-29
Packaged: 2018-01-12 02:01:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 102,093
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1180586
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AGreatPerhaps12/pseuds/AGreatPerhaps12
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Zayn was so stunning and so consistently kind to Liam that his stupid heart had the annoying habit of practically vibrating in his chest whenever they were together. Liam wasn’t deep enough in denial <em>not</em> to know what that meant anymore, but he was still forcing the feeling down as vehemently as possible. It was difficult, though, when Zayn turned to Liam with <em>that smile</em> and said <em>his name</em> like he was worth time and attention, and all the while in the back of his mind there was this chant of—</p><p>  <em>Get the fuck out of my house. I’m not having a fag for a son. I want you and your shit gone by the time I get back.</em></p><p>—Yeah. That."</p><p>Or: The one where Liam has a stutter and zero self confidence, and Zayn has a carefully controlled temper (also starring Louis and Harry as that disgustingly-in-love couple and Niall as the only straight guy around, apparently).</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Part 1

“Dude, you need a job.”

Liam looked up from the mug of tea he was holding under his nose in surprise. Mostly because a) it was eight on a Saturday morning and Niall had just entered the kitchen through the door to his bedroom wearing a pair of boxers and looking well rested. But also b) Liam had thought, or at least hoped, that Niall would give him at least a few more days to settle in before they had _the talk_ about Liam’s financial contribution to the living arrangement. To be fair, Liam had never really done this whole “show up on a friend’s doorstep after traveling hundreds of miles seeking refuge” thing before, so maybe he didn’t have a complete grasp on the specifics.

Liam nodded in agreement, trying (and likely failing) to school his features to mask his inner panic. A job meant _people_. People to work for, people to work with, people to work under. Liam was not good at _people._

“Man, don’t look so worried,” Niall chuckled, moving around the island where Liam was leaning to yank open the fridge. “I’m probably going to be working at that same water park I was telling you about last summer, yeah? I’ll put in a word for you to my manager. They’re always looking to take on new hires at the beginning of the season.”

Liam did remember the park where Niall had been employed the previous summer, probably more vividly than his friend assumed. After Niall moved away at the end of junior year, Liam had been left utterly alone, and consequently read each of Niall’s emails and texts an embarrassing number of times. Not that Niall needed to know this. Liam had some sense of self preservation, thanks very much. When Niall glanced over at him for confirmation regarding his job offer, Liam frowned vaguely at nothing in particular as if struggling to recollect something from the distant past. Then, he nodded and took a careful sip of tea.

“Great! You’d love working there. We just clean up, so most of the patrons ignore us, unless it’s like, to ask where the bathrooms are or something. Changing trash is really the worst of it, you know – lots of garbage juice.” He paused for a moment of further consideration. “Nah, puke is definitely the worst. But you get gloves for that.” Liam discreetly put down his cup of tea while Niall, unaffected, popped the lid off a jar of jam and stuck two pieces of bread in the toaster.

“The park doesn’t even open until Memorial Day, so that leaves another week and a half before you’d have to start,” he continued whilst reopening the refrigerator. “In the meantime, I could help you put in applications some other places, if for some unfathomable reason you have an aversion to spending your summer sweeping up puke. You could… work in the coffee shop down the street?” Niall gave Liam an appraising once-over and shook his head. “Only if you get some Ray Ban glasses or gages or something first, probably. Too wholesome, like.” He snapped his fingers and then pointed at Liam with raised brows. “Guyliner,” he proclaimed.

Liam smiled sheepishly and watched as Niall stacked up two yogurt cups, a container of blueberries, a bagel, and an apple on the counter. After extracting the cream cheese and a Tupperware container of leftover pizza, Niall paused in his foraging to look seriously at Liam.

“Li, I don’t want you to feel like I’m pressuring you into anything. So you need to talk to me, okay?”

Liam swallowed convulsively and averted his gaze down to the cup of tea. He opened his mouth, closed it again, repeated the motion, and dug the heels of his hands into his eyes in frustration with a soft groan. If he’d ever felt more pathetic in his life (and Liam could admit, there were many moments that presented stiff competition) he couldn’t recall it right now. After sighing shakily, he looked back up at Niall. If the blonde was concerned by Liam’s behavior, he didn’t show it. He simply watched Liam with calm patience.

“S-sorry,” Liam finally forced out, hands wrapping around his mug in a white-knuckle grip but eyes remaining determinedly on Niall.

For all this, Niall waved his hand dismissively, almost knocking over the stack of food he’d piled on the counter, and turned around to remove his toast from the toaster prematurely. He examined the barely-browned bread, shrugged, and began to dump jam onto it in thick dollops. “Don’t worry about it,” he replied, sounding a lot more confident than Liam felt. Niall reached up to ruffle his hair affectionately, tactfully ignoring how Liam initially jerked away from the unexpected contact.

Taking advantage of this rare wave of confidence before it left him, Liam took another deep breath and pressed on, “If I s-start in a cou-ouple of weeks, th-then I. I c-can’t…” Liam looked at Niall desperately as the words started tripping over each other and knotting up, like they always did. “W-with rent?” he finished rather lamely.

Liam almost cringed at the baffled look Niall was giving him. That didn’t make any sense. Shit, he never made any sense.

“I don’t.” Niall, for once, was the one lost for words. But after a long, awkward pause, his eyes widened in realization. “You thought. Fuck. Liam – _Liam_.” Niall gave him a look that was equal parts incredulous and disappointed. “You think I’m asking you to get a job to help with _rent_?”

Liam, who had apparently already used up all his courage for the day, shifted his weight to the other foot and was lifted his hands, palms up, as if to say _What else?_ Niall leaned forward so that his nose was less than a foot away from Liam’s, and Liam had to fight the urge to draw back.

“First of all,” Niall ticked off, holding up his index finger, “I don’t even pay my own rent during the school year, remember?”

Liam did remember (another one of Niall’s emails he’d reread upwards of a dozen times). Since most of Niall’s school tuition was taken care of by academic scholarships (and his parents were _seriously_ loaded), they covered essentially all of his monetary needs during the school year so that Niall could “focus on his studies.” Only during the summer, when Niall worked the majority of his waking hours and dicked around the remainder, did the Horans make their son cough up the money for food and rent.

“Secondly,” Niall continued, raising another finger, “I want you to find work because I hate you being cooped up here all day. You should have some normalcy, that’s all. Go outside, at least. Meet people. So you can go out and do…fun, young people things for once in your life.” Niall gesticulated abstractly with one hand as if to indicate what type of _fun, young people things_ he was talking about, but the meaning was lost on Liam, who just stared. Niall deflated slightly and moved to rest a hand on Liam’s shoulder, carefully this time, and said, “Don’t worry about money right now, all right?”

Liam just nodded; he was never much one for arguing, even when he could manage to string together more than two full sentences at a time. Besides, he was secretly giddy at the words “right now,” implying that Niall _did_ in fact anticipate him being around long-term. Which was a relief, seeing as Liam didn’t really have anywhere else to go.

“Good,” Niall said with finality. “Now, the super said he was sending someone over this morning to take a look at the shower, so I’ll be up and about to take care of that.” He glanced at the microwave clock and rolled his eyes. “I can’t decide whether not having to freeze my ass off every time I wash is a good enough reason to be conscious at this ungodly hour.” Niall gathered up his food and retired to the living room, where he propped Daffy Duck sock clad feet up on the coffee table and settled in for several hours of weekend cartoons. Liam allowed himself a small grin and watched his friend for a minute before fixing himself a bowl of cereal. It was nice to know that even in a world where Niall Horan (who Liam had once seen lick the bottom of a cafeteria table on a dare in high school) lived in his own apartment, attended a university, opened the door for plumbers, and was – dare he say it? – a _grown up_ , some things never changed.

***

Liam figured that Niall was probably right about getting a job. For one thing, he needed the money. He’d been taking classes at the local community college for the past year since his family couldn’t afford to send him to a proper university. But that was, for obvious reasons, no longer an option. Liam was just grateful the semester had ended before he’d been expelled from his parents’ household, otherwise he’d be out several hard-earned credits. He figured that if he started saving now and found more permanent employment after this seasonal gig at the water park ended, he might eventually be able to attend Niall’s university. Liam had always been a diligent student and a hard worker, and he had the grades to prove it. There was just the small matter of _paying_. So yes, employment would definitely be a step in the right direction.

And, if he was being honest, Liam _supposed_ that maybe living as he had over the last two days (a sulky recluse in Niall’s bedroom) for the rest of his life might take some toll on his mental health. He’d first arrived at Niall’s three nights ago, clutching a duffle and backpack to his rain-soaked person, his phone’s screen still showing the text Niall had sent after moving out of his parents’ last fall with his new address and the line _feel free to drop by whenever!_ Were the circumstances monumentally different, Liam could have made some joke about finally taking Niall up on his offer. A couple of years ago, when Liam was actually capable of maintaining whole conversations with Niall, he might have done just that. As it was, Niall just ushered his very bedraggled friend into the apartment and proceeded to extract the story behind Liam’s impromptu arrival practically word by word over the course of a half hour.

Well, most of it. Even in high school, Niall had been blatantly suspicious about the conditions of Liam’s home life, so he easily accepted the version of events as presented by Liam (who _might_ have made it sound like _he’d_ been the one to finally get fed up with his parents, instead of the other way around). There were a few more painful, shameful details Liam wasn’t quite ready to share with his friend yet. Thankfully all the telling bruises were well hidden under his clothes.

After that ordeal, Liam had fallen back into his habitual silence and spent most of the first full day lying in Niall’s bed with the shades drawn closed, pretending to be asleep when Niall peeked in to check on him after classes. Liam _knew_ , logically, that he could talk to Niall. It was just. After so long _not_ speaking, it required a conscious effort to remind himself to do so. Luckily – or unluckily, depending on Liam’s mood – Niall was more than willing to help out by poking Liam with a fork when he only made nonverbal responses at dinner or playfully nudging him in the shoulder every so often to make sure his silences were content and not morose.

These days, Liam was swinging back and forth between the two moods constantly. When Niall was away at classes or grocery shopping (a constant necessity, given the astonishing amount of food he inhaled every day – though Liam also had his suspicions that Niall was stockpiling rations for when his parents cut him off in June) Liam was inclined to stay holed up in Niall’s darkened room, staring at his phone, wishing that his mother would call (his father, apparently, had been correct in saying she wouldn’t) and dwelling on the events of his last day at home. Ultimately this train of thought would depress the fuck out of him, but he’d mostly been dealing with that by making copious amounts of tea and flipping mindlessly through infinite channels of shit television (it was working surprisingly well). He certainly didn’t _feel_ any better, but he also hadn’t had to muffle thick sobs in a couch pillow since that first night. Which he was counting as a win. It was a work in progress, really.

When Niall _was_ around, things could go either way. Usually Liam was okay, since Niall was the kind of person who prided himself on the ability to fill any silence he confronted, and was wont to tell long stories with wild hand gestures and a lot of laughter. Liam greatly appreciated his company and the distraction he provided, but the moment Niall requested any verbal participation on Liam’s part, things promptly went to hell. _Stupid, blithering idiot_ , Liam heard his father’s voice say as his words came out gnarled and jerky again and again. _If you’re not going to speak properly, then shut the fuck up_.

Niall exuded nothing but patience and always quietly waited to see if Liam would be able to get anything out. More often than not the answer was a resounding, silent _no_ , but Liam had managed to craft a few awkward sentences (the verbal equivalent, he’d thought during one of his more depressing mood swings, of a child’s macaroni art). But the knowledge that he had been able to talk almost freely with Niall at one point did help his morale. Liam wasn’t entirely sure where he’d be right now if Niall hadn’t been so wonderfully ignorant as to sit with him on that first day back from Christmas vacation, sophomore year.

***

_Liam puffed hot air onto his bare palms and rubbed them together vigorously before balling them back into fists and tucking them under his chin. The bus was running late as usual, leaving Liam to stand in the frigid air. He pulled his threadbare beanie further down over his ears to protect them from the biting cold and bounced on the balls of his feet. The previous night’s snow had melted into a thick slush that was gradually penetrating the worn leather of his boots and making his toes go numb._

_“We’ll get you new boots next year,” his mother had promised – last year, and the year before. “We just can’t afford extraneous expenses like that right now, okay?” Liam had nodded his concession, albeit reluctantly, and resigned himself to cold feet for the rest of the winter. Liam wouldn’t use the word ‘poor’ to describe his family’s economic standing, primarily because he really,_ really _hated the word ‘poor.’ That made it sound like they were living coupon-to-coupon and needed charitable old ladies from church groups to deliver homemade lasagnas to their door or something. Sure, Liam’s family had never been well off, exactly. But they were doing fine, alright? They just couldn’t afford to be buying Liam fancy new shoes on his whim, so. He was fine. It was all fine._

 _When the bus finally showed up, Liam clambered inside quickly. His usual seat was right over the vent that blasted hot air and he was eager to defrost his toes. Liam was therefore shocked and appalled when he saw that some boy was already sitting in his seat._ His _seat. This was public school transportation. People didn’t just change seats willy-nilly. There was a system. Liam cast around desperately for another vacant spot but came up empty._

_“Take your seat, young man!” the bus driver called as the vehicle jerked forward. Liam stumbled slightly and cautiously stepped toward the blonde interloper, praying that there wouldn’t be some sort of physical dispute over the territory of the vent seat. The boy was staring out the window, leaving Liam completely unnoticed as he approached._

_“U-uh…”_

Stupid, stupid, _he mentally berated himself. How long had it been since he’d spoken aloud to another student? A few weeks? A month? Shit, what if he forgot how to talk? What if he couldn’t get any words out and he just had to stand here the whole bus ride? No,_ no. _He had to sit down, the driver would yell at him. Liam took a steadying breath and tried again. “E-excu-excuse…?”_

_Well, he was one for two, and Liam was satisfied with that word count as his accomplishment for the day. He extended a hand and tapped the boy’s shoulder. He jumped, causing Liam to jump and almost lose his footing when the bus turned out of his neighborhood. The stranger looked up at Liam curiously and then removed a pair of ear buds from underneath his shaggy blonde hair._

_“Oh, sorry,” the boy apologized. “Am I in your seat?” Before Liam could respond, the boy patted the place next to him and ordered, “Here, sit.”_

_Liam sat._

_“Sorry,” the boy repeated. “Just moved here. Don’t know where everyone’s spot is, ya know? Trying not to step on anyone’s toes.” The left corner of his mouth pulled up in a lopsided grin and he looked at Liam expectantly. Liam, for his part, thought this was probably about the time he was supposed to provide a reassuring response of_ No problem! _or_ Oh yeah, know how that feels _and introduce himself. Not shockingly, he couldn’t bring himself to do either one._

_“I’m Niall,” the boy continued when it was made clear that Liam would be contributing little or nothing to their interaction. “Just moved here from Cali. Dad’s work takes us all over. It’s cold as balls here, isn’t it?” Niall rubbed his gloved hands together for emphasis and Liam thought longingly of the vent behind the blonde’s feet. He just nodded._

_“I’m a sophomore,” Niall informed him. “What about you?”_

_“S-same,” Liam managed after a long pause. Only respect for social decorum kept him from fist pumping the air. Two for three._

_“Yeah? That’s awesome!” Niall enthused. “I was going to guess sophomore, ‘cause you know all the upperclassman drive themselves but you look too old to be a freshman. I can’t wait til I have my license. Getting up early enough to catch this thing is pretty shitty, am I right? Like, it gets to my stop at six forty-five. Forty-fucking-five. It’s ludicrous.”_

_Overwhelmed, Liam just stared at him, utterly at a loss._

_“You don’t say much, do you?” Niall observed, surveying the probably stupefied expression in Liam’s face. Liam shook his head._

_“I’m going to get you to talk to me,” Niall proclaimed brashly, pointing a promising finger at Liam’s nose. “I will.”_

_Liam wasn’t quite sure what to think about that. He didn’t bother pointing out that he had, in fact, already spoken two whole words to Niall, and that was quite a feat. Due to his near total inability to socialize, most of Liam’s classmates ignored him, which suited Liam just fine (there were a few that paid him some attention, but their snide remarks and shoving hands didn’t really demand much verbal response on Liam’s part). He wasn’t quite sure what to do about this Niall kid, though, who had just flat-out announced his intent to force Liam into the anxiety-inducing task of speech. Eventually, though, Niall did succeed in what Liam had initially perceived to be an exercise in futility; his best friend was nothing if not persistent._

***

“Liam, relax, man. It looks fine. Honestly, I’m a bit insulted that you doubt my barbering skills.”

Liam smiled self-consciously and retracted his hand from his hair. He’d been running fingers through it obsessively since he’d allowed Niall to buzz it off earlier this afternoon. He hadn’t been able to see this much of his ears in years, and he wasn’t exactly sure how he felt about it. Of course he knew it was stupid to be nervous–-this had, after all, been _his_ idea. He felt different now, living with Niall. Better. More whole, if you will, and he wanted a change outside to reflect the changes inside. Did that sound dumb? Liam wasn’t sure, so he just shrugged at Niall and stabbed a piece of broccoli with his fork.

“You look good,” Niall reiterated, scooping up a spoonful of mashed potatoes and brandishing it at Liam. “This is fucking delicious, by the way. How do you get them to taste like this?”

“By usi-ing real p-potatoes, not p-powder f-f-from a b-box?” Liam supplied. Over the past couple of weeks, Liam had almost regained the confidence he’d had in speaking to Niall at the end of their time together in high school. Now he could voice reassurance when Niall bemoaned exams, announce when he was going out to purchase milk, and even dish out the occasional sass, he supposed.

He and Niall had fallen into an easy rhythm of being roommates. Liam had shadowed his mother in the kitchen enough times to be at least semi-competent in making most meals (which, okay, sounded pretty lame – but in his defense, what else was he to do after his only friend had moved away?) and rather enjoyed cooking. Liam had also taken to straightening up the flat whenever Niall was at school, feeling absolutely useless otherwise. And since Liam had the social skills of a hermit crab, Niall took care of answering the door and calling to order pizza when he insisted that Liam take a break from culinary duties. Not that he ever complained about Liam’s cooking. Niall practically moaned around his next spoonful of potatoes, letting his eyes flutter shut and donning an expression of pure bliss. Liam let out an involuntary giggle and then slapped his hand over his mouth in embarrassment. _Boys don’t laugh like that, Liam_. 

Niall watched him with kind eyes. “I don’t care if you can’t ever chip in for rent. You can just pay me in mashed potatoes,” he decided before shoveling in another mouthful. 

At the implication of work, Liam stiffened. As his first day approached, he’d been getting increasingly anxious about the prospect. What if his coworkers thought he was weird? What if someone _did_ ask him where the bathrooms were and he couldn’t respond? What if _he_ needed to use the bathroom and he didn’t know where they were and couldn’t ask anyone?

“Don’t freak out,” Niall ordered Liam as though he could read his thoughts. “I’m scheduled to work tomorrow, too. I’ll stick by your side the whole time, yeah?”

Liam, feeling very much like a kindergartener afraid to go on a school field trip to the zoo without his mother, nodded miserably. “W-what time do w-we leave tomor-tomorrow?”

“Eh, probably about seven-thirty, I think,” Niall decided. “Park’s only about fifteen minutes’ walk, but we should get there early to print your ID badge and get your uniform shirts. You got khaki shorts and a belt?” Liam nodded. “Good. Wear those. And sneakers.” Niall polished off the last of his mashed potatoes and went to the sink to clean off his plate. When he’d turned his back, Liam pulled out his phone and checked it absently for text messages or missed calls. There were none.

“Anything from her?” Niall inquired knowingly, looking over his shoulder at Liam.

Liam shook his head. “N-not that I real-really expected anythi-thing.” (Honestly, Liam was amazed his phone still had service; either his parents had forgotten to remove him from the family plan, or his mother had extended him this one kindness.)

Niall only grunted in reply. Though Liam had tried to explain to Niall countless times since he arrived that it was his _father_ whom he had a problem with (or more precisely, who had a problem with _him_ ), Niall seemed to find his mother similarly at fault. Liam was not going to challenge him on this point, figuring that would be about as fruitful as digging a hole to China with a plastic spoon. Still, his mother had never been unkind to him, really, and. And she was his _mother_. He could miss her if he wanted to, whatever Niall thought.

***

 _“You want to_ what _?”_

_Liam slouched further down in his seat and rolled the corner of his napkin nervously between two fingers. He knew it was a bad idea to bring this up at dinner. He should have told his mom first, got her on his side before mentioning it to his dad._

_“H-help. With the s-spring musi-sical,” Liam repeated without looking up._

_Liam’s father rested an elbow on the table and pinched the bridge of his nose in exasperation. “Why?” he demanded. “You want the other kids to think you’re a faggot? It’s not like you could actually perform, anyway. Are there silent roles in this play?”_

_Even though Liam understood exactly where his father was coming from, he still felt like someone had kicked him squarely in the chest._ Pathetic _, he thought to himself._

_“It w-would just be f-f-for stage c-rew,” he elaborated in barely more than a whisper. “Backstage.”_

_Liam watched as his parents exchanged a sideways glance across the table before his father said, “And_ why _are you so keen to get involved with the theater all of a sudden?”_

_Liam looked at his mother desperately but she just gave him a level stare in return, like she was equally curious to know the answer to that question._

_“Y-you said I sh-should find an af-aft-after school ac-activity,” Liam reasoned._

_“Yeah, like baseball, or_ something _, Jesus,” his father cursed. “Not fucking_ theater _.”_

_Liam didn’t bother to point out again that he wouldn’t actually be on stage performing. Just building and moving sets. Manly type things, if you thought about it. And besides, who ever heard of a freshman with no prior baseball experience making it onto even the JV team? He tried to protest, “But you ju-just said I n-needed an ex-extr-tra c-cur-cur-curri –”_

_“I know what I said!” his father shouted and banged a fist on the table. Silence descended on the room and Liam saw even his mother’s eyes widen. “Christ, boy, can you not take twelve years to say two words?”_

_Liam bit his lip and looked to his mother for support. She pursed her lips and said, “Why don’t you put your dish in the sink and go upstairs to finish your homework, alright?”_

_Liam obeyed silently. Later that night, when his mother came upstairs to bid him goodnight, she said, “You know he just wants to make sure you’re okay at school. Doesn’t want the other kids to pick on you.”_

_Liam nodded and turned to hide his face in his pillow. He heard his mom sigh as she pulled the blankets up closer under his chin. “Just get some sleep. We’ll get it all sorted out in the morning, okay?” She pressed a kiss to Liam’s forehead and exited the room._

_The next morning, as she served his scrambled eggs, Liam’s mother advised him not to join the stage crew. “Maybe next year,” she’d said. Liam made no answer; in fact, this was the first time he went a full week without so much as uttering a single word._

_***_

The next morning dawned cloudy gray, which Niall promised was a good thing.

“Park’s always a madhouse on opening day if it’s sunny,” he explained as they headed out the door. “This way we won’t be quite as busy and I can show you around. Louis texted me last night saying he and Harry are working first shift today too. They’re pretty cool. You’ll like them.”

Liam, especially nervous about meeting his new coworkers, focused his eyes downward.

“Wh-what are they l-like?” Liam asked, kicking a piece of gravel with his toe absently. Barring Niall, he had experienced only minimal human interaction since he’d left his parents’. Niall had been tactful enough to socialize elsewhere for the past couple of weeks, passing it off as no big deal even though Liam knew from his electronic correspondence over the past year that Niall was accustomed to hosting rowdy gatherings in the apartment (one of the perks of being the rare freshman to live off campus). Liam appreciated Niall’s consideration, but today there was no escaping socialization and he wanted to be as prepared as possible.

“Lou…” Niall considered. “Lou is kind of a firework. Real bright, real loud. Harry’s kind of,” Niall tilted his head one way and then the other, as if weighing two possible answers, and ultimately settled on, “a hippy. Pretty laid-back, a total sweetheart. You and him will get on just fine.”

“D-do they kn-know …”– _I can’t talk properly_? _T_ _hat I’m a freak_? – “ab-abou-about me?”

Niall shrugged. “I told Louis you were pretty shy and don’t talk much.” He flapped his hand in an _et cetera_ sort of gesture. “And telling _Louis_ something is essentially the same thing as telling _Harry_ something, honestly. Those two.”

Liam looked at him quizzically.

“Disgustingly in love,” Niall explained, pulling a face. “It’s a bit ridiculous, actually.”

Liam’s stomach did a flip-flop. Really? Did he actually—could Niall really be so casual about his two very _male_ coworkers _together_? Liam checked again. Niall’s expression was really more fond than annoyed. Maybe that meant it was safe to tell— _Stop. Stop, Liam, you are such an idiot._ It was that kind of thinking that got him here in the first place. Liam took a steadying breath and resolved himself to make no further comment on the matter for the duration of their commute.

When they arrived at the park, the first thing Liam saw was an enormous, flashing sign over the ticket booths displaying the logo _SUMMER SPLASH!_. The whole place was enclosed by a big gray fence, over which Liam could see several water slides. Niall flashed his employee badge at the gate worker and they headed straight for a red brick building at the back of the parking lot with a sign reading _Administration_.

“Morning, Dani,” Niall greeted when they entered office. A pretty, curly-haired girl behind the desk smiled up at them. “Niall, you’re – ” she glanced at her watch “ – early. Like, absurdly early. That’s an omen of the apocalypse if I ever saw one.”

Niall flipped her off amiably and jabbed a thumb at Liam. “Here to get this one his ID and shirt. Liam, Danielle. Danielle, Liam.”

“Nice to meet you,” Danielle greeted and held out her hand. Liam shook it with some trepidation and smiled shyly. “Why don’t we go get your picture taken?”

Liam followed Danielle into an adjoining room that contained only a shelf stuffed with lime green t-shirts, a table holding a computer and printer, and a tripod. He stood in front of a white screen while Danielle stepped behind the tripod. “Say cheese!” she ordered brightly, seeming not to care when Liam simply smiled and kept silent.

“Perfect,” Danielle declared. “Okay, just to make sure I spell it right on the badge, L-I-A-M?” He nodded.

She tapped a few keys, proceeded over to the shelf, and removed three shirts. “Medium okay?”

Liam shrugged.

Danielle smiled softly. “Quiet one, huh?”

Liam winced and averted his eyes.

“It’s cool,” she reassured him. “Let’s see about this uniform.” She held a shirt up against his torso, scrutinized it for a moment, and nodded approvingly. “Yeah, you’re a pretty thin guy, this’ll be fine.”

She handed him the shirts and extracted a small laminated badge from the printer. Liam pulled one of the work shirts over the plain white t-shirt he was wearing. Danielle clipped the badge to his collar and grinned at him sweetly. “There you go.”

Then, because she had been so unnecessarily kind to him on his first day that he almost wanted to hug her, Liam compelled himself to say, in just more than a whisper “Th-thank y-you, ma’am.”

“Ma’am?” Danielle laughed and Liam blushed furiously. “So polite. Don’t you worry, Liam, you’ll be just fine here.”

“Ah, look who’s all work-ready,” Niall teased, slouching against the doorframe and wiping an imaginary lone tear from his cheek. “They grow up so fast.”

Danielle rolled her eyes at him. To Liam she said, “Working morning shift, then?” He nodded. “Good. I hear Lou and Harry are coming in. We need a sensible someone to keep these buffoons in order.”

“Buffoons?” Niall repeated, clutching his chest in faux incredulity. “I’m insulted, Dani!”

“No, you aren’t,” she dismissed. “Now go forth and be a productive member of society. Simon’s managing this morning. He’s over by Flume. And you,” Danielle turned to Liam before he could leave, “if you need anything, just let me know, okay?”

Liam smiled gratefully. Niall flicked Danielle a lazy salute and led the way out of the office.

“Hurricane, SuperSwirl, Pirate’s Plunder,” Niall listed off as they passed each slide. “And the pool, of course. The smaller slides that feed into it are Vertigo and Surge. Most employees give directions in the pool area using slides as reference points, so it’s helpful to know their names. Log Flume and the lake are separate.”

Liam, feeling strongly like he should have brought pen and paper, followed Niall past a line of concession stands and a gift shop. Eventually they reached the base of a massive log flume that was already roaring with water. Just under the tallest drop, there was a small, wooden enclosed area with a narrow gate. As they came closer a man exited the enclosure, removing black work gloves and wiping sweat from his brow. He looked rather severe to Liam, his mouth set in a thin, determined line, his eyes hard. Liam had the sudden urge to hide behind Niall.

“Simon!” Niall greeted cheerfully.

“Niall,” the man returned curtly. “Welcome back. How did your freshman year go?”

“It went,” Niall answered, totally blasé. “School, you know. Studying. Nose to the grindstone.”

Simon made a dubious noise and looked over to Liam, who almost gulped.

“Oh, and this is Liam,” Niall introduced. “Liam, Simon – one of the managers.” Liam quickly stuck out his hand to shake and kept his grip firm on Simon’s hand. _You can tell a lot about a man by his handshake_ , his father had once told him. _No flimsy wrists, no loose holds. Don’t give pussy handshakes. God knows you’re not doing yourself any favors when you open your mouth._

“Niall says you don’t talk much,” Simon said bluntly. Liam swallowed but was unsure whether he should nod or shake his head to confirm this statement. He compromised by doing absolutely nothing, which was fine because the manager was already continuing, “Frankly, I couldn’t give two rats’ asses whether you talk or not; Niall speaks enough for three people on any given day. Just do what’s asked of you, and we should be fine. Alright?”

This time Liam nodded earnestly.

Simon looked at Niall. “I like this one.”

Niall grinned incandescently. “Knew you would.”

Simon did not smile in return, but Liam was starting to think that perhaps a frown was just his default expression.

“There are still some chairs behind the filter room that need to be moved onto the lawn,” said Simon. “ _What_ the maintenance staff was doing in pre-season, I have no idea.” He shook his head in sheer disgust. “After you clock in, go take care of that. Tell Louis and Harry I said to help you. And make sure they know that by ‘help’ I do not mean ‘make out in the filter room while you and Liam work.’” Liam almost choked on his own spit.

“Roger that,” Niall confirmed. He walked past Simon towards a large, squat building just beyond Flume and Liam followed hastily, sneaking a last nervous look at Simon as he left. There were two doors on the far right side of the building: one was glass, through which Liam could see another brightly lit office, and the other opened into a darker space that Liam assumed must be the filter room. When Niall swung the office door open, Liam heard someone in an adjacent room burst out, “ – _have_ to wear shoes, Harry. You work as a janitor. It’s not sanitary.”

Liam looked to Niall, who grinned and beckoned for Liam to follow. Down a narrow hall, past a first aid station and a bathroom, the voices grew louder. “Lou,” he heard another, slightly deeper voice petition. “Simon doesn’t have to know.” Liam and Niall rounded a corner and stood in the doorway of what Liam took to be a break room, complete with plastic lunch table and mini fridge.

“You’re absurd,” one of the boys insisted, sinking his weight onto one hip and crossing his arms. Neither appeared to have noticed Niall or Liam. “Simon sees you all day; of course he’ll know. _Shoes_.”

The taller of the two boys pouted. “But shoes are so…” he waved his hands around as if trying to grasp the right word out of thin air, “restrictive.”

“Harry. Babe,” said the shorter boy – Louis, Liam realized –  putting a consoling hand on the other’s shoulder. “Every year we go through this. Shoes _always_ at work.”

“Do those enormous clown feet even fit into regular-people shoes anymore, Styles?” Niall teased. “Jesus tap-dancing Christ, you’ve gotten tall.” The two boys whipped around to face Liam and Niall wearing identical looks of surprise.

“Niall!” Louis practically screeched, leaping at Niall and nearly knocking him over.

“Hey, Lou,” greeted Niall, trying to pry his arms out of Louis’ hold to return the hug, but having no luck since Louis was glommed onto him like a starfish. When Louis finally disentangled himself from Niall, he held the blonde at arm’s length and scrutinized him. “How was your first year at the university? Still alive, I see.”

“Barely,” Niall quipped. “Exams, man. I’ll tell you what, last week I was actually looking _forward_ to getting back here.”

Louis barked out a laugh and Harry’s face broke into a wide, easy smile. “I’ll remind you of that statement when you sweep up your first vomit of the season,” Harry promised. Liam was struck by how different Harry’s slow, deep voice was from Louis’ quick comments and loud squeals.

“Fair enough,” Niall agreed. “Seriously, though, Hazza.” He gestured to Harry’s tall, lank figure. “Have you grown a foot since we last saw each other?”

Harry chuckled and Louis chimed in, “Probably. Do you see how short I look next to him now? Do you _see_ this? It’s emasculating, is what it is.” Louis lifted his chin and sniffed. “And look!” He pressed an open palm against one of Harry’s so that they could all appreciate the enormity of Harry’s hand.

“Somehow I don’t believe you really mind, Lou,” Niall said, waggling his eyebrows suggestively. “Is it true what they say about men with big hands and feet?”

Liam squirmed uncomfortably.

“A gentleman never tells,” Louis replied with dignity. Then he leaned forward and winked at Liam, stage whispering, “But _yes_.”

Liam turned bright red and ducked his head while Louis laughed.

“Don’t mind him,” Harry drawled, clapping one of his rather large (Liam blushed anew) hands over Louis’ face to shut him up. “He can be a bit of an idiot sometimes.” Louis peeled away Harry’s fingers, looking scandalized.

“Is this how you treat your boyfriend in front of new coworkers?” he demanded.

Harry planted a placating kiss on Louis’ temple and wrapped an arm around his waist. “Sorry.”

Louis, looking mollified, said, “We haven’t actually introduced ourselves yet, have we? I’m Louis. Bigfoot goes by Harry.”

Liam gave an awkward little wave, already feeling slightly off kilter by the lewd comments. But he steeled himself enough to say his own name in response.

“Nice to meet you, Liam,” said Harry kindly. To Niall, “You guys already clock in?”

“Nah, I’ll get us a couple time cards.” Niall vanished to go rummage for time cards in the office while Louis dangled a pair of beat-up sneakers in front of Harry’s nose.

“Fine,” Harry conceded, reaching out to take the shoes. “But I’m not happy about it.”

“I know,” Louis said brightly. “Sorry, love.” Harry just shrugged and stuffed his feet into the shoes. After Niall had clocked in himself and Liam, they all went round back to get the chairs.

“So you and Niall are high school friends?” Harry asked as he and Liam carried a stack of lounge chairs out onto the lawn.

“Yep,” Niall said proudly. “Liam’s good people. Weren’t for him, I would have failed my AP calc exam junior year.” Liam set the chairs down and rubbed his nose awkwardly. This was a bit of an overstatement. Okay, he’d helped Niall with homework a few times, but Niall was much smarter than he often let on. He would have been perfectly fine without Liam. Of course Liam could bring himself to say none of this aloud. Perhaps that was Niall’s plan to get people to like Liam – tell people a bunch of wonderful lies about him knowing that Liam wouldn’t have the guts to verbally contradict him. Well played, Niall, well played.

“Smart guy,” Louis complimented Liam. “So did you also just finish your freshman year somewhere?”

“Mm-hmm,” Liam answered quietly, because that was the shortest explanation.

“Cool. I just finished as a sophomore, and Harry’s just graduated some fancy boarding school. Heading off to some even fancier college in the fall, right Haz?”

Harry shrugged modestly. “Guess so.”

“He’s mostly just excited about not having school-mandated footwear requirements anymore,” Louis told Liam.  

“Most academically accomplished stoner I’ve ever met,” said Niall, shaking his head admiringly.

“He’s the best,” Louis agreed affectionately, pulling Harry in for a quick peck on the cheek.

“You’re the best,” Harry countered childishly with a silly grin on his face.

“Keep this up and one of you is going to be sweeping up puke before we even open,” Niall griped good-naturedly.

“You just need a girlfriend, dude,” said Louis, “so you can get over this obvious jealousy of Harry and my love.”

“Not jealous,” Niall assured them.

“It’s okay, Nialler, we’re _adorable_ ,” Louis said with upmost certainty. “How could you not be?”

Niall mimed putting a finger down his throat and rolled his eyes at Liam.

“What about you Liam, any lucky lady in the picture?” Harry asked.

Liam felt his face heat up as the attention was directed back on him. He shook his head furiously.

“Lucky man?” Louis inquired with a smirk.

“ _No_.” It came out more curtly than he intended and he flinched, hoping the other boys didn’t notice his tone. Those hopes were dashed, though, when he saw the surprised looks on each of their faces – especially Niall’s.

“S-sorry,” Liam blurted. “I – b-bathr-room.” With that, he quickly took off without a backwards glance.

***

_It was all Andy’s fault, really. None of this would have happened if he wasn’t so nice and smart and wonderful and pretty. God, was he pretty. Stupid, horrible Andy with his dumb smile that made Liam feel like his innards had all been pulverized and he was filled with nothing but mush. Stupid, horrible Andy, talking to Liam every day even though he knew Liam would never reply—could never reply._

_Liam was flopped out on his bed, staring at the ceiling, wondering how this could possibly get any worse. For weeks he’d been skirting the issue, not allowing himself to even consider the possibility, hoping it would all just go away. But there was really no way to avoid it: he was helplessly, completely, horrifyingly_ crushing _on someone from his Communications 111 class. A_ male _someone._

_Throughout grade school, Liam had never noted much difference between male and female attractiveness; he appreciated both with no particular preference. He knew that the other kids sometimes felt what they dubbed a “crush” on another student of the opposite sex, and sometimes these “crushes,” if they were reciprocated, culminated in the two students “going out.” Liam, who only ever conversed minimally – and later not at all – with the other students, had never partaken in these experiences. Sure, he could look at a cheerleader and see yes, she had thick, long hair and big eyes and a nice figure: attractive. On the other hand, he could look at said cheerleader’s football boyfriend and see a strong jaw line, full lips, muscles: attractive. Liam knew it wasn’t supposed to be that way: girls like boys and boys like girls. But Liam chalked up his indifference to his lack of social interaction. He’d taken for granted that if he did ever make friends and develop intimate feelings for one of them, it would be a girl. But had he ever met someone whom he’d pined after? Wanted to “go out” with? No. Then again, maybe no one would have returned those feelings anyway – Liam was a freak, after all, mocked by some and ignored by the rest._

_Until Andy._ _Liam hated Andy._ _Not really. Liam really liked Andy, but Liam really hated that he liked Andy, so he wanted to hate Andy, but he_ couldn’t _because he liked Andy so much._

 _Fuck, Liam was confused. Was this what he’d missed out on all those years in high school? Suddenly Liam wasn’t so regretful for his pariah status. He wanted so many different things simultaneously that it_ hurt _._

 _The problem was, Liam could_ not _like Andy. Because he knew: girls like boys, boys like girls. That’s how it was supposed to be. He was vaguely aware that not all people abided by this code, but Liam had also spent enough time around his father to know that those were not people he was meant to emulate._ You want the other kids to think you’re a faggot? _Faggot. Disgusting. Horrible. Wrong._

 _So yeah, maybe a few times Liam had been idly concerned that he never would develop a partiality for females over males. But it wasn’t like Liam was ever any closer to developing friendships, let alone romantic relationships, so he often packed those fears away to deal with at a later date. For a brief spell during their time together, Liam had secretly, shamefully considered the possibility of developing a “crush” on Niall. Liam would sometimes watch his best friend, trying to figure out if he felt anything for the blonde. No romantic sentiments ever surfaced_ ( _to Liam’s infinite relief) and that served to reassure him that he wasn’t after all, a freak. At least, in the sense of his sexuality. Because that really, really wouldn’t be fair, would it? The universe wouldn’t make him stuttering idiot and then a fag on top of that, right?_

_Apparently the universe didn’t take Liam’s opinions into consideration, though, because here he was. Liam rolled off his bed and went over to unzip his backpack, pulling out the worn spiral notebook he used for all his classes and a black sharpie. After returning to his bed, Liam opened to the first page and began to flip through, looking, looking. It didn’t take long; the first doodle was on the eighth page, marked February 18. Two weeks after Andy first spoke to him. Amidst Liam’s cramped notes, the words “Liam and Andy” were scrawled at the corner of the page. Liam blacked the writing out with his sharpie and proceeded to scan the next page and the next, covering up his dirty little secret._

***

It only took about three steps for Liam to realize that, as he had feared, he had _no_ idea where the bathrooms actually were and was in no position to ask anyone. In lieu of returning to the others, who were undoubtedly exchanging looks or – god forbid – _discussing_ his rudeness, Liam decided now would be as good a time as any to make a search for the toilets. As it turned out, they were clear on the other side of the park behind admin, which gave Liam a long time to walk and clear his head.

He concluded that, first and foremost, he needed to apologize to Louis and Harry. The last thing he wanted was for his new coworkers to think he was disgusted by them. Liam might have a difficult time sorting out his own rather complicated feelings on the whole… _gay_ thing, but he certainly liked Louis and Harry. They were friendly and understanding. Niall obviously thought highly of them and that counted for a lot, too.

Liam also began to wonder whether he should disclose the entire story of his banishment to Niall, who deserved nothing less than the truth. Liam didn’t _think_ Niall would be angry with him, and in some sense Liam did owe him a bit of honesty. But just suppose…

Liam was afraid. He could admit that. Didn’t he have a right to be? On the off chance Niall didn’t want to live with a…a…well. A _you know_ , then he didn’t really have a lot of options, did he?

 _Liam Payne,_ he thought to himself seriously, staring at his reflection while scrubbing the last tendrils of soap off his hands, _You are well and truly fucked._

That having been conclusively determined, Liam began his long trek back to the stretch of lawn where the others were working. Louis was the first to note his return, and greeted Liam with an enthusiastic wave. Liam returned it half-heartedly as he closed the last bit of distance between himself and the other three. Niall and Harry were simply looking at him curiously. Liam decided to hold off on a possibly life-ruining confession to his best friend, and opting instead just to break the ice with a, “S-sorry abou-about-t being a pri-ick.”

Louis snorted and Harry smirked, saying, “That was you being a prick?”

Niall just frowned at Liam and said, “You sure you’re alright, man?”

Liam nodded vigorously and kept his eyes down. He knew that Niall remained unconvinced, but thankfully he knew not to push the subject. Shortly after they finished their chair distributing work, Simon appeared with a short list of tasks for them to complete before opening: leaf blowing the pool deck, sweeping out the office, testing and recording the pH and chlorine levels in the pool, and scrubbing the most slippery patches of algae off the steps to Pirate’s Plunder. As they completed their chores, Louis and Niall supplied most of the conversation by catching each other up on all the shenanigans they’d engaged in over the past year. Harry seemed content to listen to Niall’s stories or zone out while Louis animatedly relayed events Liam assumed he must have heard multiple times already. Liam of course held his tongue.

The park technically opened at eleven, but around ten-thirty it began to drizzle a bit. By the time the gates swung wide at precisely eleven, there were only six families waiting to enter.

“Gonna be a slow day,” Louis remarked cheerfully.

Harry hummed his agreement. “You finished scrubbing that spot yet, Nialler?”

Niall looked up from his work and brandished the steel bristle brush at Harry mock-menacingly. “You want to take over?”

“Not even a little bit,” Harry quipped, shoving his hands in his pockets and grinning down at Niall. “Now hop to it. We’ve got lazing around to do.”

Liam looked at Harry curiously.

“The most demanding part of this job is opening and closing,” Harry explained as he rocked back and forth on his heels. “Because there’s a set list of things to accomplish. Leaf blowing, checking steps, chem tests – but after people get here, we mostly just check trash periodically and respond to incidents as they occur. That leaves a lot of spare time.”

Liam suddenly felt uncomfortable. He wanted to be accepted by his new coworkers, but could he actually bring himself to sit around on the job? What if they got in trouble? Simon didn’t seem the type to let such lax behavior go unpunished.

“Simon doesn’t care,” Louis reassured him (simultaneously letting Liam know just how blatantly frightened he must look; awesome). “He knows our job is a joke for most of the day. He just doesn’t want us sitting around where anyone can see us, ‘cause patrons will complain.”

“If Niall finishes with that step before I’ve grown a beard,” Harry said pointedly, “we’ll take you to our usual hang out. Show you around.”

Niall scoffed. “You. Grow facial hair. Hilarious, Haz.”

“I _could_ ,” Harry asserted, attempting to sound offended but smiling all the same.

Louis scoffed. “Sorry, love. But really.”

“Bastards, both of you,” Harry said, pointing an accusing finger at Niall and Louis.

Louis just planted a wet kiss on his boyfriend’s cheek and then skipped off towards the filter room, calling, “You know I love you!” over his shoulder.

“Your boyfriend’s a freak,” Niall commented to Harry as they followed in Louis’ wake.

“Yup,” Harry said proudly.

Liam’s heart almost shuddered to a stop at the look of pure adoration on Harry’s face.

***

“Here it is!” Louis presented, striking a flamboyant _ta-da_ pose. “Isn’t she a beauty?”

Liam looked around at the tiny room uncertainly. It was more of an attic, really; a precarious set of stairs that ran along a side wall of the filter room led them to this small annex above the office. There was one small window that looked out onto the area behind the filter room – or would, if it were not so absolutely covered in filth. The room itself was completely unfinished (Liam could see the pink lining of insulation sticking out from between wooden beams inscribed with initials and notes in Sharpie) and contained nothing but a rusty card table and five equally rusty folding chairs. Liam had the distinct impression that if he breathed on any of them to harshly they might disintegrate. Niall had already lounged in one of said chairs and stuck his mud-caked sneakers up on the table. 

“Oi, get your feet off the table, you barbarian!” Louis scolded. “That’s where I eat my lunch.” He gave Niall’s shoes a hard shove and failed to budge them. Harry rolled his eyes and sat next to Niall, pulling his own feet up under his thighs to sit cross-legged. He patted his lap invitingly to Louis, who sighed in defeat and plopped down on top of his boyfriend. Liam sat stiffly in the chair opposite.

“The chair’s not going to bite your ass,” Niall informed him, locking his hands behind his head so that both elbows stuck out like wings. “Relax, Li.”

Liam adjusted himself in the chair so that he was marginally more comfortable and leaned forward to rest his arms on the table.

“So, what do you think?” Louis asked proudly, directing his full attention on Liam.

“Nng – N-ni-ice,” Liam managed, fidgeting under the eyes of the other three.

Niall snorted “yeah, it’s a fucking palace,” and Liam smiled abashedly.

“W-why come h-here?” he asked, hoping that this question wouldn’t be taken as offensive.

Niall just shrugged. “To get away from the customers, mostly. Like I said, people complain if they see us standing about. Also, ‘cause Louis can’t do this out on the pool deck.” Niall pointed in the direction of Lou, who was dragging his tongue up the side of Harry’s face. Harry scrunched up his nose and gave Louis a playful shove.

“Ew,” he complained, giggling. Louis grinned wickedly and started instead to trail kisses down the side of Harry’s neck.

“Oh,” Liam replied to Niall distractedly, trying not to stare blatantly at this affectionate display.

Harry, who caught Liam’s awkward gaze over Louis’ shoulder, said slowly and carefully, “Sorry if we make you uncomfortable, Liam.”

Liam shook his head so vigorously he dizzied himself for a moment. “N-no,” he insisted. “No. I-I’m just…” He trailed off, lifting his hands in a helpless sort of gesture and pulling an apologetic expression.

“Okay,” Harry agreed, as if he understood Liam even though he clearly didn’t. “Good, because you seem alright, and we want you to be cool working with us.”

Liam nodded. “Th-thanks.”

“Good,” Niall declared. “Now that that’s all settled. Li, things to know about working here.” Niall pointed authoritatively to a slipshod list jotted in Sharpie on the wall. The list was entitled _Rules of Being a Janitor_ , and the first item read “Don’t call customers out on their stupid bullshit.” Liam raised his eyebrows.

“Customers are dumb,” Niall explained.

“Mostly,” Harry allowed.

“Almost always, in fact,” Louis amended. “They can also purposely be assholes, because you’re a _janitor_. You’d be amazed how quick people are to shit on the hand that wipes their ass.” Harry nodded sagely.

“They might ask you whether they can take their kid down a slide even though the sign says they’re clearly not tall enough,” Niall continued. “They may ask you to hold on to their ice cream cone while they go to the bathroom. Hell, a female customer might come up to you and ask if you can clean some shit up in the girls’ changing stalls.”

“Yes, he did say changing stalls, and yes, he does mean shit in its most literal sense,” Louis clarified. Liam wrinkled his nose.

“Do not, repeat, _do not_ look at the customer like they’re an idiot, or tell them so,” Niall instructed. “That gets you in trouble real fast. Just smile and look pretty and assure them you can take care of whatever they need.”

“If a customer is seriously breaking the rules, most often someone more important and less replaceable than us will tell them off, so don’t worry,” Louis said.

“Rule two,” Niall continued. “’Do all assigned tasks as slowly as possible.’ If you have to be out there doing something, might as well be doing it long enough for a supervisor to notice you’re working. That way, you can spend more time up here later on and not have anyone wonder whether you’re accomplishing anything.”

“Always look busy around Simon,” Harry added. “It’ll impress him, and his first impressions usually stick. Make Simon like you the first week, and he’ll like you all summer.”

“But you also have to watch out for Malik,” Louis reminded them. Niall and Harry nodded in agreement.

“Mr. Malik is the owner of the park,” Niall elaborated. “He’s never come up here, don’t worry. Most days he isn’t even at the park. But anyone he catches slacking off outside gets the boot. Like, immediately.”

Liam couldn’t help it; he glanced over his shoulder at the door as if Mr. Malik might come waltzing in at any moment to fire them all.

“Malik,” Harry said in a mildly disgusted way, which was the harshest tone Liam had heard him take all day. “What a tight-ass.”

“Did you hear his kid has a job here this summer?” Louis asked Niall.

Niall's mouth popped open in surprise. “What? No. What department?”

Louis just shrugged. “Vending, maybe? Not sure. Name’s Zayn, though. Danielle only mentioned him in passing this morning. Apparently, the guy got in a spot of trouble at his school at the end of this past semester, so Malik is punishing him slash keeping an eye on him by making him work at the park all of break.”

Harry let out a low whistle. “Wonder what that guy’s like.”

“Aloof, according to Danielle,” Louis said in a vaguely impressed way. “That girl and her SAT words.”

“A spot of trouble?” Niall repeated, immediately interested. “What kind of trouble?”

“I don’t know, Ni,” Louis replied with an eye roll, like he was above all this petty gossip even though _he_ was the one to raise the subject. “I didn’t interview her. You know what I know.”

“Huh,” said Niall, laying back in his chair and staring at the ceiling.

Louis, seeming to have lost interest in the subject, said, “Got any gum, Haz?”

“’Course,” Harry replied, jostling Louis on his lap when he reached in his back pocket to withdraw the chewing gum. Liam watched in wonderment as he drew out a fistful of items. A pack of cigarettes, a crumpled, almost-empty bag of Cheetos, the several sticks of gum, a Push-Pop (did they even make those anymore?), a watch with only one leather strap still intact, and not one, but three pipes.

“Wow, you’re like the pot-head version of Mary Poppins,” Niall admired, instantly reaching for the Cheetos but Harry slapped him away.

“That’s my lunch,” he said covering the chips with a protective hand.

“Why do you have all these?” Niall inquired, picking up the pipe shaped like an elephant and admiring it.

Harry shrugged. “Variety is the spice of life, my friend,” he said wisely.

“Gum?” Louis demanded, holding out the palm of his hand impatiently.

“There you are, love,” Harry said, bestowing a piece of gum on Louis. Lou gave him a peck on the cheek in thanks and popped the gum in his mouth.

“Gum?” Harry offered Liam, who took the piece with a grateful smile, ignoring the fact that the wrapper smelled faintly of marijuana.

He watched silently as Harry and Louis passed the rest of the morning aiming bits of Cheeto at each other’s mouths from across the room and Niall texting absently on his phone while occasionally contributing snarky comments about how appalling he found their love. Every once and a while, one of the three would look over at Liam with a smile, like they were just checking to make sure he was still there and alright.

***

 _Andy had a girlfriend. Not just a short fling, either, but a two-year, might-be-the-one, bona fide girlfriend. Liam met her one day in March when she came to pick up Andy after class. Andy, being his stupid, perfect self, introduced them. Liam tried very, very hard not to like her and failed. Just as it was impossible not to like Andy. His girlfriend was beautiful, charismatic, and didn’t care that Liam couldn’t speak a word to her. She and Andy were perfect for each other and it broke Liam’s heart. Which was dumb, he reminded himself, because wanting Andy in this way was wrong to begin with. Andy and his girlfriend –_ that _was right. Liam was just wrong, wrong, wrong._

_That night, Liam cried harder than he had in a long time – probably since elementary school when Ryan Nicols pushed him into the mud one day during recess. Liam didn’t really have many things to cry about; his life was pretty static. Sure, he was lonely sometimes, but in Liam’s life loneliness was par for the course. Heartbreak was not._

_Liam wiped the snot and tears from his face with a strip of toilet paper and reached around the sink to dump it in the trash. He was currently curled up in a corner of the downstairs bathroom, quite literally as far from his parents' bedroom as he could possibly be. Liam’s father didn’t like crying._

_Liam felt like a wrung-out sponge. He was still sad and still wanted to have a good cry, but he physically felt he couldn’t manage another sob. Exhausted, he lifted himself off the floor and checked the mirror. Liam cringed away from his reflection, face red and puffy from crying, hair mussed, shirt collar wet from when he’d miserably attempted to conceal his sobs with the fabric._

_Ugly. Pitiful. Stupid._

_He was an utter mess of a human being. No wonder Andy didn’t want Liam. Who could want this shit-show?_

_***_

It was almost a full week before Liam encountered Mr. Malik’s son at the park. During that time, he did deal with a few idiot customers and their ridiculous bullshit. He changed trash cans, swept up vomit (of which there was plenty, once kids started getting out of school and eating one too many hotdogs before sliding down SuperSwirl) and all in all had a good time working with the boys. Harry and Louis shared most of Niall and Liam’s morning shifts, though there was another guy, Nick, who picked up hours on the weekends. They were all very kind to Liam, and accepted as much as he was willing to give in terms of conversation (usually very little). But he was improving – on Friday he congratulated himself on speaking his first unprompted sentence to Harry: Where can I go to get more garbage can liners?

Making a trip to acquire trash bags never felt so fulfilling.

Liam was still having a difficult time grappling with the idea of _not_ working while he was at work. While Niall and the others were wont to disappear into their attic room nearly as soon as the park opened every day, Liam would allow himself only certain intervals of time up there in their company. He would make short, fumbled excuses to leave again, usually just circling the park looking for a lone wrapper he had yet to sweep up, or checking the nearly empty cans for the dozenth time.

“It’ll pick up,” Louis reassured him with a smirk when Liam excused himself from the card table yet again on Friday afternoon where they were, quite actually, playing cards. “In July we hardly get a moment’s peace. You’ll be ecstatic.” Liam blushed and nodded, pushing in his chair.

“Li, if you are looking for something to do, the lifeguards’ water cooler is almost out,” Niall suggested, laying a king of spades on top of the pile. “You want to go up to the food venders and refill it?” Liam nodded and took off. He was glad for some assignment, and might have started whistling merrily as he went about his work if he wasn’t, well, Liam.

He was just rounding the corner of the food stands, planning on entering through the back door to attract as little attention from employees as possible, when a noise halted him: the sound of someone singing. Not loudly and overtly, but not shyly either. Liam thought he recognized the tune, but could not discern the words from this distance. It was a nice voice, Liam decided, like – like melted chocolate or honey or something. Liam wasn’t all that great with words either in his mouth or in his head so he couldn’t construct a proper comparison, but he knew he liked the voice. Liam set the cooler down on the ground and took a cautious step forward, crunching gravel underfoot. He peered around the corner of the building and saw someone emerge from the storage refrigerator carrying a cumbersome cardboard box.

Liam’s heart leapt.

If Andy had been pretty, Liam didn’t know what this boy was. The high cheekbones, the defined jaw line, the strong eyebrows…Liam emitted an involuntary whining noise from the back of his throat and clamped a hand over his mouth in horror. He retreated carefully to conceal more of himself with the wall and peered furtively at the boy who had apparently taken no notice of him. Liam watched as he carried the box back inside, still singing but lowering his voice when he swung the door open.

When Liam heard the slam, he couldn’t even force his feet to carry him forward. How was he supposed to handle filling up a water cooler with _that_ in the same room? What if the boy looked at him or (dear sweet Jesus) _spoke_ to him, and Liam just keeled over? Or threw up? But, at the same time, how could he _not_ fill up the water cooler? It was his job. And Niall had explicitly asked him to do it. His life was a mess, Liam concluded. He might as well go home and get lost in the covers of Niall’s bed and shrivel into nonexistence.

Liam was prevented from taking such drastic measures, however, by the fact that his shoe soles were still apparently glued to the ground. Liam stood for what must have been several minutes, torn between desire and trepidation, duty and cowardice. He opened and closed his sweaty fists nervously. Before he could sort himself out, the door creaked open again and the voice was back.

“ _Tired of lying in the sunshine, staying home to watch the rain. But you are young and life is long, and there is time to kill today_ …”

Liam felt a strange tug in the pit of his tummy, drawing him insistently forward. He boldly inched forward to catch sight of the boy again, struggling to swallow the sticky, nervous lump that had inconveniently formed in his gullet. The boy’s back was to him now, providing Liam with full view of the unkempt dark hair and tan neck and slim frame. He was not broad shouldered, Liam observed, or as curvy as Louis, but not gangly either, like Harry. Liam liked looking at his back, and it was taking near every ounce of his willpower not to look down at his–-

Fuck, Liam, he scolded himself. Fuck, this was – he couldn’t. He just _couldn’t_. Another involuntary noise of distress left his throat and he carded his fingers through his hair. Liam was just considering what excuse he could contrive for returning with the empty cooler when he realized with a thrill of horror that the boy’s eyes were set upon _him_. He was squinting at Liam in the sun, holding a box to his chest, eyebrows pinched together suspiciously. “Hey!” he called and advanced a step toward Liam.

At that moment, Liam decided he needed to get the fuck out. Like, right now. In his haste to escape, Liam managed to forget the plastic cooler just behind his ankles. The fall was loud, horribly so, with the hollow cooler spinning out from under him and banking off the brick wall with a loud _conk_. A sharp pain lanced across Liam’s palms and forearms as his ass hit the gravel hard and he tried but failed to catch himself. He wound up leaning back against his bloodied elbows, totally stunned, vaguely aware that the back of his uniform shirt had probably been torn up. Just as Liam was about to pull himself up off the ground, a figure appeared from around the corner to loom over him.

Liam felt like something in his chest cavity had caught fire. At that moment, he might have simply melted into a hot puddle of _awkward_ and _want_ and _mortification_ (for one absurd second, he wondered if Niall would come mop his puddle-self up or whether Simon would fire him for making a mess).

For a moment the two just stared at each other, Liam’s mouth agape, the stranger’s set in a hard line. His brow was still furrowed in a mistrustful frown but Liam definitely did not gulp. Did _not_.

“Dude, why were you creeping on me?” the boy demanded.

Well, Liam didn’t have an answer for that, did he? At least not one that didn’t sound, ah, creepy. There was also the fact that Liam was fairly certain he would never be able to make a sound (at least an intentional one) come out of his mouth in the presence of this boy. So he settled for gaping upwards at his object of admiration without a sound, feeling utterly foolish and thoroughly pathetic. What else was new.

Eventually, it must have become clear to the other that Liam was unable to present either a response or a threat. The frown softened and he emitted a sigh. “Come on.” He extended a hand to Liam.

Liam recoiled from the extended appendage (nice, Liam, real nice) and hoisted himself into a standing position without making eye contact. He leaned against the wall to examine the damage of his forearms. Liam could _feel_ the other boy’s eyes on him.

“Shit, you really did a number on yourself,” the boy muttered appreciatively. He leaned into to look at Liam’s grated skin and made to grab one of his arms. “You should probably—“

“Hey!”

They both started and looked around for the source of the angry shout. Which was Niall, apparently. The blonde had just rounded the corner and was striding purposefully toward them, glaring at the boy beside Liam. “What’d you do to him?”

The almost-sympathetic look Liam had glimpsed in the boy’s face just before he’d gotten to his feet was gone. It had been replaced by the same, defensive glower that he’d initially received upon being caught. Liam shifted anxiously away from the boy, who turned to face Niall straight on.

“What did _I_ do?” The boy cocked his head to the side and lifted his lip in a haughty scowl.

“Yeah.” Niall set himself between Liam and the other, and issued an aggressive push to the chest. Liam set his hand on Niall’s shoulder warningly but was ignored.

“I didn’t do shit to your friend,” the boy retorted furiously.

“Bull,” Niall proclaimed. “You know, you’ve got a lotta nerve – “

Liam batted Niall on the shoulder harshly and finally gained his friend’s attention. Niall whirled around to give him a _what?_ sort of look and oh, fuck, though. Now Liam was expected to say something. He looked at the boy, then back at Niall rather pleadingly, and gave his right shoulder an awkward sort of twitch that might have been construed as a shrug.

Nailed it.

Either Niall finally realized that he didn’t fully understand the context of the situation, or he simply wanted to spare Liam further discomfort. He cast another unfriendly look at the stranger before turning to Liam and murmuring, “Home? It’s three; I clocked us out. We should get you cleaned up.”

Liam nodded vigorously.

“Alright, let’s go.” Niall didn’t look around at the other as he herded Liam away, but Liam glanced back at the boy, who was observing them curiously. Uncomfortably, he put his head back down and allowed Niall to guide him home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Lest there be any confusion (which, I'm not sure why there would be -- if you've ventured into the abuse tags end of the angst fic spectrum I assume you're a seasoned fanfic reader :) ) but this isn't supposed to in any way emulate the real lives of the characters in this story. You see I've fucked that up already in the first chapter by giving Liam no siblings...which he has, apparently. Hurray for lack of research! So yeah, that's my obligatory disclaimer. 
> 
> *insert not-so-subtle solicitation for comments and kudos here* And thanks to the people who responded on the original endnote begging for a beta :)


	2. Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry if you've already seen this chapter update! I accidentally deleted the last one in trying to update edits from my beta...sorry I'm the worst. Sorry sorry sorry. Although a real update should be coming early next week, if that helps?

“I-it rea-eally was f-fine,” Liam insisted  _again_  as Niall wrapped gauze around his forearm. “I t-tr-tripped. S-stupid.”

Niall grunted disbelievingly but didn’t dispute Liam’s story. Liam, dissatisfied, put a hand under Niall’s chin and forced him to make eye contact. “N-nothing hap-happened.”

Niall sighed and stood up from his crouch to retrieve more Neosporin. “That was Zayn Malik,” he informed Liam after a beat of silence. “Dani pointed him out a couple days ago. The guy who got himself in trouble at school last semester?”

Liam nodded. In truth, he hadn’t given much thought to his boss’s son since Louis mentioned him on their first day of work.

“According to Perrie, who also works in vending, he got in a fight with some other guys,” Niall continued, smearing antibiotic on Liam’s wounds. “Apparently it was pretty serious. Like, bones were broken. I just didn’t want you getting hurt, that’s all.”

Liam swallowed. He wanted to counter Niall, somehow. Say something like “you don’t have to baby me” or “I can take care of myself.” But, as he sat in Niall’s apartment, dressed in one of Niall’s old t-shirts, allowing Niall to disinfect scrapes he’d acquired from tripping over a  _cooler_ , for fuck’s sake, Liam didn’t feel like he had much of a leg to stand on in that regard. Still, though, he did think he should apologize to Niall for being such unnecessary trouble, and said so. Niall, predictably, snapped the first aid kit closed and sent Liam off to bed without dignifying that comment with a response.

As Liam curled into the couch and pulled one of Niall’s old quilts under his chin, the tune Zayn had been singing earlier that day played on a mental loop. It struck a chord of familiarity--if Liam remembered correctly, his mother had been rather partial to that song. Liam had a few vague memories of her humming along to the CD as they drove home from school when he was younger. Never outside the car, though. Never at home. Liam’s father did not much like music.

Liam felt a renewed wave of misery wash over him at the thought of his mother, and hid his face in the pillow. For a moment, Liam almost tried to hum the song to himself quietly, but choked back the sound before it could escape. Niall might hear him.  _Close call, moron_.

Liam was distracted from his mental reprimand by the click of a bathroom light being shut off and Niall’s feet shuffling across the room. Liam flinched when a hand unexpectedly reached out to cover his shoulder. Niall murmured apologetically, “Sorry. Just wanted to say goodnight,” and disappeared into his own room before Liam could even return the farewell. Liam noticed that he closed the door with slow determination so that the knob made a distinct  _click_. Liam felt the tension leave his shoulders and subsequently the familiar feeling of guilt pool in the pit of his stomach.

***

_Liam knew he was in trouble the minute his father crossed the threshold. The loud clomp-clomp of his work boots against the linoleum floor of the laundry room, the aggressive slam of the door... Liam could hear from his own room and leaned further over his book, as if hoping he might accidentally dip into its pages and be swallowed up._

_“LIAM!” his father bellowed. “Get in here,_ now _!”_

_Liam replaced his book on the desk with trembling hands and reluctantly exited his bedroom. In the kitchen, Liam saw a bouquet of flowers on the table and a Happy Birthday! balloon bouncing jovially against the ceiling. Oh no._

_“Liam, there was one thing I asked you to do for your mother’s birthday,” his father said. “One, god-damn, motherfucking THING. Can you tell me what that was?”_

_No, Liam couldn’t tell him. Not because he didn’t know what it was – mow the lawn – but because Liam hadn’t actually spoken aloud to his father in four months. And if the pure terror pounding through his body at that moment was anything to judge by, the streak would not be broken anytime soon._

_(If you’re not going to speak properly, then shut the fuck up_   __ _)._

_Well, Liam had finally shut the fuck up._

_Apparently that was no good either, because all Liam’s stalwart silence earned him was a backhand across the left cheek. Liam stumbled back but before he could clutch the dinner table for support, a large hand gripped his collar and dragged him right underneath his father’s nose._

_“That lawn had better be taken care of before your mother gets home,” he spat. Liam nodded vigorously and was promptly released. “Go.”_

_Liam went._

***

Liam carefully avoided passing vending for the next couple of days, scared out of his wits that he might accidentally see Zayn again.

Zayn who sang Liam’s mother’s favorite songs while he lifted heavy boxes in and out of refrigerators and who had looked down at him with those criminally pretty eyes –-

Right after Liam had been caught peeping and fallen straight on his ass, ripping the back of his work shirt and his arms wide open.

(Yeah, and that thought always pretty much put an end to his fantasizing.)

Niall had been kind enough to keep the debacle of Liam’s first encounter with Zayn just between the two of them. Louis and Harry’s concerned looks and questions about his bandaged arms were met only with vague, joking responses from Niall about how clumsy Liam was (a lie more familiar to Liam than Niall could have known). Liam appreciated that Niall was trying to preserve some of his dignity, but the ruse made it a little difficult for Liam to explain himself when, three days later, he flat-out  _refused_  to go pick up lunch for Louis and Harry on their break.

“Come on, Liam,  _pretty_ please?” Louis pouted jutting out his lower lip and widening his eyes comically.

“T-too much,” Liam told him with a reluctant grin. Louis reined it in. Slightly. “Sti-st-still no.”

“Liam,” Harry began slowly, obviously aiming for  _reasonable_. Liam refused to look at him. While Louis may not have mastered the art of cajoling Liam, Harry certainly had (it might have been Harry’s pout, which, unlike Louis’s, did  _not_  resemble the face of a blob fish).

“We’ll give you money, of course,” Harry said, positioning himself in Liam’s line of sight and dipping his chin ever so slightly, so that even though he had several inches on Liam’s height, he could still look up through his thick lashes with those  _absurd_  green eyes.

Liam gulped.

“Why-y can’t one of y-you g-g-guys go?” he asked.

“Because Harold and I have very important business to tend to in the limited amount of time allotted for breaks,” Louis said.

Liam huffed. As if the two of them spent more than ten percent of their entire workday outside the filter room attic.

“Which, if we’re being honest, is mostly making out,” Harry conceded. “But Lou and I are reasonable people. You make a run to vending, you can keep five to buy something for yourself.” He reached into his (overfilled, as usual) pocket and dangled a twenty in front of Liam’s face. Liam just looked at him. Harry pressed the bill against his forehead with a thumb.

“Alright!” Liam caved, snatching away the money. “N-Niall, wa-want s-s-some –- want something?”

“I think it’s disgusting the way you two are taking advantage of poor Liam’s kind-heartedness,” Niall declared from his seat at the table and pointed an reprimanding finger at Louis and Harry respectively. “But if he’s going out anyway I could take a hotdog and an ice cream cone.” He grinned at Liam and took a bite of his sandwich. Liam flipped him off. Niall raised his eyebrows, clearly impressed with this bold exhibition. Liam grinned shyly back at him.

Louis clapped his hands together. “Fantastic. Li, Harry and I’ll text you our orders so you don’t have to remember them, yeah?” Liam let out an  _oof_  as Louis clamped his small hands on either side of his head and pressed a wet kiss to his cheek. “You’re the best.”

Liam left hastily.

It was not until he saw all of their food laid out on the counter that Liam realized there might have been a slight flaw in Harry’s plan. Specifically, that unless Liam spontaneously sprouted three extra arms, carrying all of this back would be tricky. He combined three different cardboard baskets of burgers and fries (what the hell, Louis and Harry were going to share it all anyway, and not even necessarily by picking off each other’s trays – disgustingly in love, indeed), stuck Niall’s hotdog on top, tucked his own bottle of water under his chin, and reached to cradle two ice cream cones between the fingers of his other hand. He was just turning himself away from the counter, very,  _very_  cautiously, when someone said, “Hey,” right behind his left ear.

Liam jerked violently, dislodging his water bottle in the process and nearly dropping the ice cream cones. He whipped around, wide-eyed, and found Zayn standing a couple of feet away from him, hands held up with palms forward in an  _I surrender_  sort of gesture. He was obviously biting back a smile, though.

“Jumpy, aren’t you?” Zayn observed. He reached down to pick up the water bottle, which was rolling away down the sidewalk. He didn’t hand it back to Liam, though, so Liam didn’t know what to do. Could he reach out and try to take it? That seemed unlikely as both of his hands were otherwise employed. He felt a dribble of ice cream run down his knuckle.

Zayn frowned.

“You also don’t talk much,” he tacked on after a couple moments of awkward silence.

Liam sucked in his lower lip and chewed it apprehensively. He shook his head and looked rather desperately at the water bottle.

Zayn’s eyes followed his own. “My break just started. Let me help you carry this wherever you’re going? As an apology for startling you.”

Well fuck if Liam was going to say no to that smile. He didn’t swoon – because boys  _don’t_  swoon – but damn.

Liam shrugged as nonchalantly as possible and forced his legs to make a few stiff steps back towards the filter room. Zayn followed.

“Sorry about the other day, too, I guess.”

Liam looked up. Zayn was looking guiltily at the gauze that still covered most of Liam’s forearms. Huh.

“I’m not, like, a mean guy. So you know. Just, short temper.”

Liam nodded and averted his eyes to the sidewalk. Liam was very familiar with short temper.

“I’ve also been getting some shit ‘cause my dad owns the park and I guess that means everyone knows why I’m here? Like, people keep looking at me and assuming I’m some sort of violent delinquent or something. It kinda sucks.”

Liam considered and decided that yes, it would indeed suck. He knew a thing or two about having people assume too much based on prior knowledge or a bad first impression. He also suspected this might be why his ridiculously fearful reaction to Zayn might not have been well received. Liam wanted to explain that it wasn’t  _Zayn_ , per se. He was just scared of... Well, most people. He pursed his lips and cast a consoling look at Zayn.

“Anyway,” Zayn sighed. “I’m Zayn, by the way.”

Liam lifted his chin in acknowledgement and cast a glance of feigned interest towards the pool to avoid eye contact. Zayn wasn’t having any of that, though; he ducked around Liam’s chest to catch his eyes. “And you?” he prompted.

A particularly large drop of ice cream landed on Liam’s thumb. Fuck everything.

“L-L—“ he coughed uncomfortably into an elbow, “L-Liam.”

Liam braced himself. Braced himself for the snort, the snigger, the  _“Nice to meet you, La-La-Liam.”_ Because Zayn was obviously, devastatingly better than Liam in every way, and that was generally how things went whenever Liam had been forced to interact with such people in high school.

Liam was not braced for the “Good to meet you” that actually came out of Zayn’s mouth. Liam nearly tripped over his own feet and Zayn reached out, ready to catch him if he fell.

Liam gave a jerky, self-conscious nod of thanks.

Zayn continued as if uninterrupted, “So are you a returner, or a newbie like me?”

“N-new,” Liam forced out.

“Oh yeah? New in town? Or just stuck here by an overbearing parent for bashing some guy’s nose in?” It was clearly meant to be a self-deprecating joke, but Liam couldn’t laugh.

“Ah – Um, N-Niall… g-got-ot me a j-job. M-my. My r-roo-oommate.”

“Niall,” Zayn recalled. “Blonde guy.” The phrase was decidedly lacking the upward inflection of a question, and Liam’s eyes flicked anxiously over to Zayn, whose jaw was set and eyes were squinted in distaste. Liam’s heart hammered in his chest and he rushed to make amends.

“H-he’s gr-gre-eat,” he assured rapidly. “We – er, we’ve j-j-just been…been f-fr-riends f-for a while and – and N-N-Niall’s p-prote-prote-protective—“

_(Christ, boy, can you not take twelve years to say two words?)_

Slow down, Liam. Deep breaths. He wasn’t used to saying so much so quickly. But he very much needed to make sure Niall wasn’t slighted because of Liam’s social incompetence.

Zayn’s eyes were wide as he made a placating gesture. “Okay, okay, dude. I get it.”

Liam nodded curtly and looked at his shoes. Well, he’d done his best. That alone probably maxed out his quota for talking today. Silence was safer.

“So you and Blondie are roommates, then?” Zayn continued, tactfully glossing over Liam’s awkwardness.

Liam just nodded again.

“And you were childhood pals?”

Another nod.

Zayn puffed out a breath. “So you’re just not gonna talk now, is that it?”

Liam gaped at him. Zayn actually sounded…disappointed that Liam wasn’t talking. Liam couldn’t remember the last time anyone had been  _disappointed_  that he’d chosen to keep his mouth closed instead staggering his way through a sentence. Well, except Niall. But that was  _Niall_. This was a complete stranger. And now Zayn was fixing Liam with this penetrating gaze with those unfairly lovely eyes and Liam had the distinct, unsettling feeling that the other boy was trying to figure something out – to figure  _him_ out. Liam didn’t like it.

“H-h-highschool f-friends,” he finally bit out uncomfortably, hoping to distract Zayn.

Zayn didn’t miss a beat. “Oh? Attending a university somewhere these days, when you’re not busy taking out trash?” (A comment that might have affronted Liam a week ago, but now referred to an act so routine he couldn’t even fake indignation.)

“Mmm-hmm.” That counted as a verbal response, right?

Zayn seemed to find it passable, and said, “That’s pretty cool. Know what you want to study, major-wise? My dad wants me to be business, no surprise there, but I’m really into English Lit.”

“N-no id-idea,” Liam disclosed. He’d not even completed his general education requirements at the community college this past year. And who knew what would transfer over to whatever school he attended in a couple of years when he could afford it? God, Liam’s life was such a mess. Maybe he shouldn’t have left home at all; his education and future were worth more than a few bruises and a nonexistent social life, right? Maybe he’d been stupid to leave when his father ordered him out. He should have pleaded to stay, or left for a couple of hours or days while the dust settled and then returned home to beg for forgiveness. At least at home he’d had some direction, and now he was just…well, just busy taking out trash.

“Hey, you okay?” The concerned tone cut through Liam’s mounting panic and he snapped his eyes over to look at Zayn.

He nodded and was grateful when Zayn let the subject drop. They made it the rest of the way back to the filter room in silence, Liam silently egging them on with longer strides as ice cream melted onto his hand.

“Are you sure this is safe?” Zayn cast a dubious look at the rickety staircase up to the attic and then back at Liam. Liam blinked. The structural soundness of the staircase hadn’t even crossed his mind in days. He nodded and realized for the first time that he was really one of the others, now. The thought made him grin stupidly from ear to ear.

“Food!” was the exclamation that greeted Liam as he entered the annex. Before he even had time to comprehend which excited bodies were rushing at his person, Liam was relieved of the food items in his hands.

“Thanks, Li!” Harry said appreciatively through a mouthful of french-fries.

Liam smiled back; despite his initial bemoaning of the errand, it did feel good to be needed, even in this small way.  _One of them_ , he thought again. He turned his attention to Niall, to apologize for the veritable puddle of ice cream he’d brought back, to find that Niall was looking incredulously behind him.

It occurred to Liam for the first time that maybe he didn’t have express permission to bring visitors into this janitor sanctuary.

“What’re you doing here?” Niall demanded of Zayn, who looked on with cool disinterest, like Niall was something gross he’d found on the bottom of his sneaker. Liam opened his mouth to explain, but Zayn beat him to it.

“Was having a nice chat with Liam on the way back from vending.”

“Really.” The look Niall was giving Zayn implied he thought Zayn must be teasing Liam, and he was less than pleased.

“Y- _yes_ ,” Liam finally made himself say. He looked imploringly at Niall, whose irritated expression melted into surprise. Liam saw Zayn grin smugly and ignored him. He also pointedly ignored Harry and Louis who were pushing fries in their mouths and watching the situation unfold like a scene on TV.

“Really?” Niall blurted out disbelievingly. Liam reddened.

“Yes, really,” Zayn said, crossing his arms defensively.

“J-j-just h-helping…” Liam gestured helplessly at the water bottle in Zayn’s hand, which the other boy immediately returned.

The crease between Niall’s brows smoothed over. “Hmm. Well, I’m sorry for misjudging you then.” That was the great thing about Niall; he could be rash on occasion, but mostly it was in Liam’s defense, and he wasn’t too proud to admit when he’d acted mistakenly. True to form, Niall still stuck out his hand politely. “Niall Horan.”

“Zayn Malik.” They shook, and Liam exhaled a breath of relief.

“Oh, and Harry and Louis,” Niall added, though the other two were now engrossed in something on Harry’s phone, the real-life drama having apparently resolved itself. They each raised a lazy hand without tearing their eyes away from the screen.

Zayn nodded and looked about the room appraisingly. “Where are we, exactly?”

“Nowhere your dad needs to know about, if you value your health,” Niall answered jovially. Liam winced, not that anyone took notice.

Zayn smirked. “Fair enough.”

***

_“Liam, honey?”_

_He heard a few soft knocks on the door. Liam stuck a fist in his mouth to muffle a sob and didn’t answer._

_“Liam, unlock the door, please.”_

_Then, because he was too weak-willed to resist, Liam went over and unlocked the door. His mother looked momentarily relieved before she caught sight of the black eye and the busted lip Liam was sporting._

_“Oh, Li,” she lamented, “Come on, let’s get you fixed up.” She took his hand and started to lead him towards the kitchen, but Liam shook his head vigorously and refused to move. He could hear the kitchen TV blaring and knew that his father would be in there. Liam’s father didn’t like it when Liam’s mother had to deal with the aftermath of their confrontations. Liam’s mother didn’t need that on her plate, his father said. Liam was a grown ass man, for god’s sakes. In college, now. Liam could take care of himself._

_His mother looked back at him for a second, then nodded her agreement. She knew, too, what Liam’s father did and didn’t like. They proceeded instead into the bathroom and closed the door. Neither one spoke as Liam’s mother wetted a washcloth and pressed it to her son’s lip. A few tears leaked out the corners of Liam’s eyes, and he gave an unintentional whimper after pressing too hard against the damaged eye with the back of his hand. His mother gathered a few tissues and dabbed at his eyes as Liam sniffled quietly to himself. She carded her fingers through Liam’s hair gently and hummed softly. She didn’t ask what had happened. After a while she excused herself to get Liam some ice for his eye. Upon her return, she suggested that Liam return to his bedroom, promising to bring him his dinner later._

_Liam loved his mother, but sometimes it felt like their relationship shouldn’t be like this. Like…Liam couldn’t quite put his finger on it. Just. Like, there should be more? Or she should care more? Which was ridiculous, because his mother was the one bringing him ice packs and dinner in bed and Liam’s relationship with his mother was…well, it was the best relationship he had with any other human person. Besides Niall. And Niall had left him._

_Liam was probably expecting too much. She couldn’t help what Liam’s father did. And Liam’s parents loved each other, so why should his mother be enraged at his father on Liam’s behalf when things like this happened? That was a ludicrous thing to hope for. Liam was just being_ stupid _, and_ selfish _, and_ god _he just wanted to tear out his own hair sometimes because he--well. He couldn’t stand himself._

_***_

Zayn hanging out with them rather quickly became a thing after that afternoon. Apparently the girls in vending were incessant gossips whose conversation could not hold Zayn’s attention for long without him wanting to throttle someone (Zayn’s words, not Liam’s). Almost every noontime for his lunch break and sometimes even after his shift ended, Zayn appeared up in the filter room attic to hang out or have a smoke with Harry (apparently, employees were forbidden from smoking the park, so Zayn was ecstatic to have a place where he could indulge his habit without fear of social or professional repercussions).

The others welcomed him with open arms, to Liam’s monumental relief: Harry was also interested in studying literature, and the two engaged in lengthy conversations about books they’d both read, or hoped to read (Liam was especially grateful for this, as his characteristic silence had early-on made him the target of Harry’s Analytical Soliloquies About the Shrouded Significance of the Written Word--or so Liam had mentally dubbed them). Louis found in Zayn a new person who did not yet know how lethal he was at most card games, and took great delight in trouncing the only person who would play with him anymore (later in the summer, Zayn would wise-up and start cheating). Even Niall, once he got past his initial mistrust of Zayn, seemed to come around. The fact that he saw ever more interactions between Liam and Zayn that did not involve Liam getting the living daylights beaten out of him seemed to help.

And Liam... Liam’s feelings towards Zayn were a mix of awe and adoration and plain old discomfort. Whenever they were alone in the attic together (which wasn’t often, given the gross amounts of time the other three spent in there and Liam’s determination to do  _some_  work at his job), Zayn tried to engage him in conversation. Usually they were stilted exchanges due to Liam’s general anxiety, but Zayn seemed determined for them to be friends. Liam didn’t know what to make of this – was this just some misplaced effort to make up for terrifying Liam during their first encounter? Was it pity? He couldn’t tell. It just didn’t make sense. He and Niall had been friends for years, and at least Harry and Louis worked with him, they  _had_  to get along with him. Liam could fathom absolutely  _no reason_  to account for Zayn’s desire to speak to him, though.

There was also the fact that Zayn was so stunning and so consistently kind to Liam, whatever his motive, that Liam’s stupid heart had the rather annoying habit of practically vibrating in his chest whenever they were together. Liam wasn’t deep enough in denial  _not_  to know what that meant anymore, though he was still forcing the feeling down as vehemently as possible at every turn. It was difficult, though, when Zayn walked in and greeted the others, and then turned to Liam with  _that smile_  and said  _his name_  like he was worth  _time_  and  _attention_  and all the while in the back of his mind there was this chant of –

_Get the fuck out of my house. I’m not having a fag for a son. I want you and your shit gone by the time I get back._

Yeah. That.

But Liam was making the most of it. Given that there was exactly zero percent chance of Liam’s shameful fantasies about Zayn ever actually becoming reality, he knew, logically, that he was safe to enjoy Zayn’s company without disaster of the romantic variety befalling him. It was just a matter of constantly reminding himself  _not to be scared_. On the whole, it was working out okay. There  _was_  that one day Zayn was hanging out at lunch with them, eating a hot dog (which yeah, okay, Liam was already trying to avert his eyes, thanks). Liam glanced up from his pretense of interest in a shoelace to see a spot of mustard on the corner of Zayn’s mouth, and suddenly felt the wild urge to go over and lick it off.

Liam promptly exited the room, citing some made up task he’d just “remembered” Simon had assigned him earlier.

Hot dog debacles aside, Liam was alright. Harry, Louis, and Danielle had even come over to the apartment a couple of times to hang out (only after Niall asked Liam approximately half a dozen times whether it was okay), and Liam received his first paycheck after two weeks of work. He handed it over to Niall because god knows he owed the boy more than was written on that little slip of paper, but Niall just shoved it back at his chest and told Liam to spend it on himself. The suggestion wasn’t outrageous; currently the only items in Liam’s possession were the ones he’d been able to stuff into his duffel and backpack. He definitely needed more than three shirts and two pairs of pants besides his uniform. Socks and underwear were also a must. Niall took him shopping over the weekend and they stocked up for Liam’s more permanent residence. Liam was pretty sure the only words that came out of his mouth that day were “thank you” over and over again. Niall was an awesome best friend.

Of course it couldn’t all be good because this was Liam’s life, and as he had concluded long ago, Liam wasn’t allowed nice things.

The cruelest of ironies mandated that The Incidents (as Liam had taken to calling them) start the Monday after Niall took him shopping, just when Liam thought everything was finally good. Liam was leaf-blowing contentedly around SuperSwirl just before opening – it was his favorite type of work. The hum of the blower drowned out all other sounds, and the constant vibrations that rattled through the handle grounded him. For the ten minutes he banished leaves from the pool deck each morning, nothing else in the world existed. He was at peace.

The peace was abruptly shattered on this particular morning by two guys from landscaping. Liam was so engrossed in his work that he didn't notice them approach, so when one tapped him on the shoulder unexpectedly, he jerked and spun around defensively. Liam really wished people at this place would  _stop_  doing that. This guy didn’t seem to find Liam’s trepidatious reaction quite as amusing as Zayn had, though. “Jesus Christ, what’s your problem?” he demanded, pushing the nozzle of the leaf blower out of his face.

Liam swallowed hard, unsure what to say. The other guy sneered at Liam’s deer-in-the-headlights expression. “Look, dude, can you just tell us who’s managing you today?” His tone was so derisive Liam literally winced. “We need gas for the mowers but the janitors must’ve rearranged stuff in the filter room ‘cause we can’t find it.”

Liam gulped “Y-y-yeah,” he stuttered. “P-P-Pau-aul.”

The first guy snickered. Liam looked at his feet. He’d dealt with people like this in school before. Work was no different.  _Just ignore them and they’ll go away. Just pretend you don’t care. Just—_

“A-a-alr-r-r-right-t-t, th-th-th-tha-anks,” the other guy stammered in a horrifying imitation, inciting his friend to guffaw at Liam’s expense. Liam, for his part, just continued looking downwards for fear that one of them would catch sight of his glassy eyes.

“Hey, man, just jokin’ around.” One of the boys slapped Liam on the shoulder and he shrank back.

“Whatever,” the other said. “D-d-dummy c-c-can’t t-t-t-take a j-j-joke.” And they dissolved into laughter once more, pushing each other companionably as they walked away. Liam counted to thirty in his head before he felt it was safe to sniffle.

Over the next couple of days, whenever Liam saw either of these boys around the pool area he took strategic efforts to avoid direct contact. This was not always successful, and sometimes Liam was forced to put up with The Incidents: usually a “H-h-hey, r-retard,” or a grotesque face, or a mean-spirited smirk. Liam wouldn’t lie—these encounters hurt. In his college classes, no one had cared whether he could or couldn’t talk. There had been no class discussion, no recess, no riding the school bus, no lunch bell when all students congregated in a single room. So Liam hadn’t had to deal with this shit from his peers in over a year. Surrounded by Lou, Harry, Danielle, and Zayn (apparently), he’d almost forgotten that many people who weren’t Niall were quick to judge and mock and hate. Liam had allowed himself to be lulled into a false sense of security, and The Incidents served a rude reawakening.

Nonetheless, if there was one thing Liam was good at, it was keeping his head down and taking a hit. Whenever he met these condescending grins or snide remarks, he simply retreated to the janitors’ attic. He was safe there. Harry and Louis and Niall were kind to him, and he could almost forget the hurt. Almost.

Unfortunately, the week only proceeded to get worse.

“So I told you my parents are having another kid,” Niall said over dinner on Thursday. Liam replied in the affirmative, having recalled that information from one of Niall’s emails during the spring semester. “Well, my dad wants my help this weekend to get the room ready. Painting and setting up and all that. Also, I think with all these mushy parent-y feelings going around, Mom and Dad starting to feel badly about my living away during the summer. So they want me to come home for a few days.” Niall rolled his eyes but the exasperation of the gesture was undercut by his fond smile.

Liam swallowed. “N-nice.”

“Yeah, should be fun. Look, though, are you going to be okay staying here a couple of nights by yourself? I’d only be gone tomorrow night through Sunday afternoon."

“N-N-Niall, y-yes,” Liam said earnestly. Truth be told, Liam was not thrilled about the idea of staying in the apartment by himself, but come on, there was no way he could make Niall stay here to placate his own needless anxieties.

Niall grinned at him. “Thanks, dude. And I already checked, Louis, Harry, and Nick will work with you Saturday and Sunday morning.”

Good, Liam thought, that was good. He could do this. He was an adult. He could stay alone for two nights in an apartment.

The next night, Liam was struck with an overwhelming sense of déjà vu as Niall packed up his belongings. The scene bore an almost comical resemblance to the first time Liam had been left alone at home without a sitter. “There’s food in the fridge, key on my dresser, um, what else? Call or text if you need anything, okay? If you want to order pizza, I know you don’t like talking on the phone but you could order online for delivery or something. Just use my laptop for whatever you want. Also, I put Harry and Louis’ numbers in your phone if you need them.”

 _Yes, Mom_ , Liam almost joked, but didn’t because that might hurt his heart a little more than he was prepared to deal with right now, especially with Niall almost out the door.

Just before Niall crossed the threshold, he turned around, looked at Liam, and pulled him in for a brief but tight hug. Which Liam leaned into with minimal startling. “See you Sunday, buddy,” Niall said bracingly. Liam swallowed and tried for a smile.

“T-tell y-y-your parents h-hi,” he managed and Niall grinned before closing the door behind him.

Liam wrapped his arms tightly around himself and looked at the closed door.  _This is stupid_ , he told himself. Niall was his roommate, not his caregiver.  _Jesus,_   _get ahold of yourself. Stupid Liam, so stupid…_

Liam reached out with shaking hands to lock and bolt the door before returning to his couch. He fingered the blankets a bit, staring ahead absently, wondering how to pass the time when it was so quiet. He briefly considered texting Louis or Harry to come over, but he wasn’t sure whether that would be weird. They’d only ever hung out in the company of Niall outside of work. Besides, they probably already had plans anyway. They didn’t need to be bothered with Liam.

Liam spent the night watching the few Disney movies Niall owned until he fell asleep. The next morning, he woke abruptly to the alarm on his phone and got dressed in a hurry, unable to stand the silence of the apartment any longer. He made his journey to the park at a brisk walk and was unsurprised when he walked into the filter room to find that Harry and Louis had not yet arrived. Liam clocked in and went in search of Simon for something to do. However, he was unable to find Simon in any of his usual pre-opening haunts—he checked the filter room again, under Flume, even in administration.

While admin was completely void of any managers that might be able to provide Liam some sense of direction for his morning, Danielle was sitting behind the desk leafing through some paperwork when Liam arrived.

“Morning, Liam,” she chirped with a smile. “Looking for Simon?”

Liam nodded.

“He called to say he’s running a bit late today because of some family situation, but that you guys can get started with scrubbing the upper landing on the steps to Plunder. Guessing Lou and Harry haven’t shown up yet?”

Liam shook his head.

She shrugged. “You could wait for them, or get started I suppose. Doesn’t much matter s’long as Simon isn’t here. But hey!” Danielle leaned forward and looked wide-eyed at Liam like she’d just recalled something of vital importance. “I’m having a little get-together at my place next Sunday for my birthday. I forgot to tell Niall, but you guys should totally come.”

Oh, oh no.

“Ni—“ Liam coughed to dislodge the lump of anxiety caught in his throat and continued, “N-Niall’s h-home for the w-week-weekend. But. I-I’ll let him kn-kno-ow when h-he gets b-ba-ack.”

“Okay.” Danielle looked expectantly at him. Liam stared back, unsure what else there was to say. That was two whole sentences, plus some. What did she want from him? Eventually Danielle rolled her eyes and continued, “I invited you too, remember? Not just Niall. So are you going to come?”

Wait, what?

This time, Liam couldn’t bring himself to say  _anything_. The very idea of attending a party, even in the company of Niall, was absolutely  _petrifying_. Liam hastily shook his head “no,” because he could not even muster enough self-respect to refuse politely. Danielle interlaced her fingers in a pleading gesture and leaned forward. “ _Please?_  It’ll be so much fun,” she pouted. Liam let out a distressed noise and shook his head again.

_Yeah, great job, Liam. You’re handing this superbly. Just get the fuck out of here before you make a bigger fool of yourself._

“S-sorry,” he whispered because, well, what else could he say?

Danielle shook her head despairingly. “Fine, fine. One day, though…”

Liam was still waiting for her to finish that dangling thought when Louis and Harry entered, jostling each other and giggling over some private joke.

Danielle snapped her fingers to get their attention. “Louis! Harry! Convince Liam to come to my party,” she commissioned.

Harry looked at Liam with raised brows. “Dude, you should totally come. It’ll be fun.”

Danielle threw her arms up. “That’s what  _I_  said.” She looked pointedly at Liam. “See? You’ll know more people there than just Niall and me. Harry and Louis are going.”

“And Zayn,” Harry put in.

“And Zayn,” Danielle agreed. Liam was taken aback; he didn’t even know Danielle and Zayn were friends. But he just shook his head emphatically once more.

Louis, surprisingly, was the one who decided not to push the topic. “Maybe you’ll change your mind,” he said. Liam could not have been more grateful for this unexpected ally. Lou turned back to Danielle, though, and promised, “We’ll work on him.”

Never mind. Liam hated Louis.

Danielle’s defeated expression transformed into a hopeful smile as she waved them goodbye.

The morning passed pretty quietly; it was another rainy day, and by eleven Danielle had come round to tell them that Simon would not be coming in at all that morning, due to a family emergency. Which pretty much sealed the deal as far as Louis and Harry going off to do… well,  _whatever_  (Liam was trying not to think too carefully about the details) in some dark corner of the filter room together. So for the second time in less than twenty-four hours, Liam was left in silence that he was not equipped to fill.

At lunchtime, though, like clockwork, Zayn arrived. Liam heard him bounding up the steps (Zayn took as little heed of its structural unsoundness as the rest of them now) and his voice saying, “Harry, guess what book I’ve—“ before he broke off, realizing that no one occupied the room but Liam. Zayn looked down at Liam’s hunched form, back against the wall and knees up to his chest, in surprise. “Hey,” he greeted and sat down a couple feet away. He held out the tray of French fries he’d brought and Liam took one with an appreciative smile.

“Where’s everyone?” Zayn asked, popping a fry into his mouth and glancing around the room as if the others might suddenly manifest themselves in the chairs.

Liam took a deep breath. “Niall’s h-home, and S-Simon’s n-n-not here, so L-Louis and Ha-arry are off…” He waved his hand abstractly and Zayn made an adorably revolted face.

“Those two.” He shook his head, and Liam couldn’t tell whether he was just feigning irritation with their love like Niall often did, or whether it truly disgusted him to think of two boys doing…that. Liam felt his face heat up and he ducked his chin, feeling embarrassed even though he knew Zayn could have no idea about his  _wrong_  thoughts. Even if Zayn did accept homosexuality as a thing, even if (and Liam could not emphasize enough to himself that it was a huge if) Zayn was gay, Zayn could never want someone like Liam. No. No, if Zayn ever found out about Liam thinking those types of thoughts about  _him_ …well, he certainly wouldn’t be sitting across from Liam as comfortably as he was now.

“So, are you going to Dani’s party?” Zayn asked, offering Liam another fry. “She told me she invited you, but you had to think about it.”

Liam nibbled at the fry and shook his head.

“Why not?”

Liam shrugged and looked at his knees. But Zayn was very difficult to avoid when he wanted to know something. He simply stared at Liam until Liam thought he might melt under the pressure of his gaze, and finally looked up.

Zayn just raised an eyebrow, like he was willing to wait as long as it took for Liam to talk. Well, if there was one thing Liam was well practiced in, it was silence.

The silence lasted about fifteen minutes. During that time, Zayn finished his food, threw away the tray, went outside briefly to make a phone call, smoked a cigarette, and eventually came back to lie down in front of Liam, who hadn’t moved. Zayn stuck his palms under his head for a pillow and stared at the ceiling, apparently content.

At long last, Liam exhaled at said, “I-I c-c-can’t….with c-crowds…I’m…” He completed the thought with a miserable shrug and went back to picking at the sole of his shoe. He could feel Zayn looking at him again.

“Okay,” he said. Liam looked up in surprise.  _Okay?_  After all that,  _okay_? Zayn chuckled at his incredulous expression. “Liam, it’s fine not to like crowds. I’m not, like, judging you or anything, alright? I just wanted to know why you didn’t want to go.”

Liam swallowed. “O-oh.” And he thought that would be that.

If only.

Zayn sat up and fixed Liam with an intent gaze. “Why are you always so afraid of saying the wrong thing around me?”

Liam rested his cheek on his knee and looked determinedly at the floor. “N-not just y-y-you,” he whispered, hating himself a little bit.

“No, ‘cause I’ve seen you talk to Niall and Louis and Harry, and you’re not scared of them. Not like you are of me.”

This conversation was getting dangerously close to painful topics Liam wasn’t sure he’d ever be ready to discuss, even with Niall. So he opted not to answer, and for a while Zayn said nothing. Again, Liam thought that the conversation had closed until Zayn unexpectedly came out with the question, “Is it because of what I did the first time we met?”

That… was a good question, Liam thought. Because yeah, that was it a little bit. Zayn was quick to anger, as Liam had seen intermittently since their first, rather scarring, exchange. He’d once heard Zayn get in an argument over the phone with his father and had to leave the attic when their words became too heated, Niall throwing him a sympathetic look. Liam was never sure if or when he would next be the target of Zayn’s wrath. So there was certainly an element of fear involved in his relationship with Zayn, regarding the other boy’s temper. There were also the feelings Zayn inadvertently inspired in Liam, which Liam was  _also_  afraid of. In conclusion, Liam thought, yes, fear all around.

“Partially,” is what he said aloud.

Zayn hummed thoughtfully in response and laid back down.

“Are you ever going to tell me why you were staring?” Zayn inquired lightly, giving Liam an amused side-eye. Liam’s stomach lurched.

“I—I…” He winced at himself.

Zayn waited, because of course.

Liam cast desperately around for  _some_  way out of this conversation, but found none. Throwing caution to the wind, he decided for honesty: “Y-You…you w-were…singing?” Okay, that totally sounded stupid. And creepy. Liam was just on the verge of hiding behind his own hands in shame when he noticed the slight red tinge that had spread across Zayn’s cheeks. For once, Zayn actually looked about as uncomfortable as Liam.

“You heard that?” His tone of voice was stone cold and sent shivers down Liam’s spine, causing him to twitch nervously.

Liam suddenly realized that perhaps he’d been the interloper on some private moment. He hadn’t even considered the idea that maybe (in addition to just generally  _not_  wanting random people staring at him from behind corners) Zayn had not intended for anyone to hear his song. Now that Liam thought about it, Zayn had lowered his voice before returning inside…oh, fuck.

“I-I-I’m s- _so_  s-sor-sorry—“ Liam stammered, his nerves getting the better of his tongue. “I-I d-d-didn’t mean…I di-idn’t th-think—“

Suddenly Zayn was sitting up and moving towards him again and Liam flinched away, trying to press himself further back into the wall without any success.

But instead of yelling or fists or scowls or— _Retard. Faggot. Not my son—_ there was a hand on his forearm with a firm grip and a low voice saying, “Hey, Liam.  _Liam_.” Seven full seconds passed before Liam could force open his eyes to peer fearfully into Zayn’s, and found that they were looking right back at him more softly than he’d expected, with something like concern. “Breathe,” Zayn reminded him. Oh, yeah. Breathing. Liam obeyed. It registered dimly that Zayn’s thumb was swiping back and forth across the inside of his wrist, soothing away the tremors. Liam took another big gulp of air and Zayn smiled approvingly.

“S-sorr—“ Liam began, but Zayn shook his head and Liam bit his tongue. Maybe he’d lost his speaking privileges after that last display of eloquence.

“Don’t apologize. I overreacted,” Zayn said, surprising Liam again. “Sorry. I don’t usually, uh, sing in front of people. Kind of self-conscious about it, actually.” Zayn rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly.

Zayn? Self-conscious? Liam couldn’t reconcile that in his head. “B-but,” he began tentatively and only continued when Zayn made no moves to quiet him, “y-you sounded so…goo-ood.”  _Great compliment, Liam. Really just overflowing with comforting reassurance._

Zayn, though, looked flattered. “Really?” Liam nodded eagerly. Zayn barked out a laugh and ducked his head almost shyly. Liam’s heart almost stopped right then and there. He was so fucked.

“Ah, thanks, I guess.” Zayn grinned like compliments from Liam were important, like Liam’s opinion mattered. But the next moment, Zayn seemed to realize that his hand was still resting on Liam’s arm and he withdrew it quickly, leaving Liam feeling cold and strangely, inexplicably broken.

“So you like Pink Floyd, huh?” Zayn asked and crossed his legs to face Liam squarely.

Liam cocked his head to the side and frowned.

“Pink Floyd,” Zayn elaborated, “the band that plays that song.”

“Oh.”

“You’ve honestly never heard of Pink Floyd?” Zayn looked astonished and Liam just stared blankly back at him. “Liam, they’re like…it’s  _Pink Floyd_.”

“N-never list-listened to m-m-much m-music,” Liam confessed. “S-so…”

“But you’ve heard of like, the Beatles, or Rolling Stones, or…I don’t know. Led Zeppelin? Britney Spears? Madonna? Queen?”

“B-Beatles,” Liam confirmed. “Madonna.”

The only word to describe Zayn’s expression at that moment was ‘flabbergasted’ (Liam considered noting this aloud, before remembering that to verbally attempt such a word would be a suicide mission).

“You’re not serious.”

Liam just shrugged helplessly.

Zayn ran a hand through his hair. “So then, what do you listen to? Because really, barring the Grateful Dead, all Harry’s iPod is hipster indie stuff, but he’s still heard of the classics.”

“N-not r-really anything.”

“Why not?” Zayn all but demanded.

Liam was left at a cross roads. He could either a) pass this off as just some personal quirk, which Zayn would probably tactfully take in stride, like he had all of Liam’s other oddities (because Zayn was perfect, ugh), or b) Liam could be honest. The latter route would involve mention of his father, and initiating any conversation about his father was rather like poking at a fresh bruise. But Zayn… for some reason Liam felt the sudden urge to let spill some of the personal history that had been weighing him down for the past month (for the past several years, really). He just—it was all just too much to keep around inside his own head all the time, it hurt too much. He just wanted someone to tell, someone who wouldn’t hurt him or run away or be disgusted. Someone who wouldn’t treat him as an object of pity, who would comfort him if he needed it or listen quietly while Liam confessed the pains of his childhood in lurching, faltering sentences without getting impatient. Liam was just so fucking tired of being alone.

And yes, maybe he could tell Niall these things. Perhaps he should tell Niall. There was still this small part of him, though, that knew this shitty, broken, twisted up person was not who Niall had signed up to be friends with, that first day on the bus. Liam wasn’t sure he could bare his soul to Niall, who’d already done so much for him, had always taken care of him. Niall, as a sixteen year old, hadn’t knowingly taken on such a basket case of a friend, and he didn’t deserve to be put upon  _even more_  now just because Liam was a more thorough fuck-up than ever.

But maybe Liam could tell Zayn. Zayn had demonstrated this unexplainable willingness to be friends with him. Liam was still uncertain of his motives, but for now, the situation stood. So…so maybe Liam could tell Zayn. Not everything. But Liam could tell him the little things, the little things that hurt him at times like these, when he least expected, which might relieve some of the pressure in his chest. Just to tell someone. If Zayn ran away, then, well,  _c'est la vie_. Liam hadn’t really been  _that_  attached anyway (as he was perpetually trying to convince himself these days), at least, not like he was attached to Niall. And if Zayn stayed, then. Well.

“M-My dad,” Liam started nervously. “H-h-he d-does…d-di-idn’t like m-music.”

A pause.

Fuck. This was a bad idea, such a bad idea—

“Your dad…doesn’t like music,” Zayn repeated.

Liam nodded hesitantly.

“And that means you can’t like music?”

Perhaps Liam had hoped for too much as far as Zayn understanding him. Perhaps Liam just sucked at communication. Definitely at least the second one.

“I—uh, it m-meant n-no music in the h-h-house…g-growing up,” Liam explained. “So.”

Zayn was once again giving Liam that penetrating stare that made him so uncomfortable, like he was literally trying to see into Liam’s head.

“That’s so…” Zayn cast around for the right word.  _Pathetic?_ Liam mentally supplied. _Weird? Dumb?_  “Sad.”

Liam was dumbfounded.

“So you don’t have an iPod, or an MP3, or anything? A Walkman?” Liam shook his head. “Well,” Zayn said decidedly, “here you go, then.” Zayn reached into his pocket and pulled out an iPod nano. Liam remembered when those were popular in middle school, and he’d been one of the only kids in class whose family couldn’t afford to purchase one. He recalled vividly all the recesses he was left wandering around the school grounds while clusters of other students huddled together, popping each other’s headphones in their ears, gabbing on about this artist or that.

Liam’s jaw dropped when Zayn dropped the iPod into his lap. Liam picked it up with trembling fingers and looked from the little device to Zayn and back again, not entirely sure what was happening.

“By next week, I want a full report on what music Liam Payne does and doesn’t like. I have a couple thousand songs on there, so I recommend shuffling first. If you find something you like, check out the rest of the artist’s stuff. That is your assignment. Also, take good care of that. My grandfather got it for me when I turned thirteen, and it’d be sorely missed.”

Liam gaped at Zayn like a goldfish but the other boy was smiling encouragingly at him.

“Seriously?” he asked, just to be sure this wasn’t some sort of cruel joke, and Zayn wasn’t about to snatch the iPod away from him yelling  _just kidding!_

Of course, Liam was just blown away again with that incomprehensible, undeserved kindness Zayn always showed him. “Yeah,” Zayn reassured. “A life without music?” He scoffed. “Preposterous.”

Liam carefully placed the iPod in his front pocket and cupped his palm around the rectangular lump through the fabric. For the rest of the day, he was thoroughly cautious not to let anything so much as brush up against his pocket. Other than the anxiety over protecting such precious cargo, though, Liam was practically glowing because  _Zayn had entrusted Liam with his music_. Zayn was giving Liam the chance to partake in something he’d been excluded from since tween-hood. Zayn wanted to know what Liam did and didn’t like. Liam was giddy with excitement. Not even a casually cruel remark from one of the landscaping guys as he exited the park that evening could bring him down from this high.

***

Not until later that night, when Liam was falling asleep in the empty apartment, awash in a song by the Moody Blues, did he realized Zayn remembered exactly what song he was singing the day Liam spied on him. Liam wasn’t sure what that meant, but it made something warm fizzle through his chest as he drifted off into sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much to teamfreeawesome for beta-ing this :) She's excellent. And if you've made it this far into the story I can only guess you like to drown in angsty Liam as much as we do? If so, you should check out her story "i just wanna make you sweat" because it's spectacular. That is all. Hope you guys liked this second part! Lemme know what you think :)


	3. Part 3

“What’s up with Liam today? Dude hasn’t stopped smiling.”

“I know, it’s very strange. Take note. Nialler’ll be interested to hear about this when he gets back.”

Liam rolled his eyes. Despite the headphones in his ears, he could _hear_ them talking about him across the room. He looked up from the iPod to see Louis and Harry peering over the edge of the table at him interestedly, like two scientists studying possibly dangerous wildlife from afar. They’d arrived sometime earlier, too caught up in their _LouisandHarry_ -ness to register Liam sitting in his usual spot on the floor against the wall. They seemed, however, to have finally taken notice.

“Hey buddy, whatcha got there?” Louis asked when Liam popped one of the ear buds out and raised an eyebrow. Liam lifted up the iPod for them to see.

“Is that Zayn’s?” Harry inquired.

“Mmhmm.”

Harry was incredulous. “He’s, like, in love with that thing. He gave it to you?”

“Lent,” Liam corrected.

“Wow, somebody likes Liam an awful lot.” Louis winked at him. Liam reddened and Harry chuckled.

“Well, we all knew that,” Harry said, like the all _did_ know that. Which, okay, what? But Louis apparently was in on the joke, because he just smiled knowingly and turned his attention away from Liam, and Harry did not elaborate. Liam decided, as with most things _LouisandHarry_ , he didn’t want to know.

Later that afternoon, after Zayn had already come and gone (smiling in a self-satisfied way when he saw Liam listening to his music) Niall showed up.

“I have returned!” he announced enthusiastically, tossing his overnight bag on the ground and throwing his arms open wide as if waiting for someone to leap into them. When no one did, he dropped them back to his sides and flopped down next to Liam.

“What are _you_ doing here?” Louis demanded. “You’re off today.”

Harry, more politely, asked, “How’re your mom and dad?”

“Lovely,” Niall replied to Harry. “Thanks for asking.” Turning his attention to Lou, “Bus stops a couple blocks away. Thought I’d walk home with Liam when you all get off.”

Liam beamed at Niall and patted his hand to indicate he was glad to see him. Niall turned to smile at him and noticed the ear bud between Liam’s fingers. “What’s this?”

“Zayn’s lent Liam his iPod,” Harry cut in. He gave Niall a significant look that Liam did not understand. Louis had this shit-eating grin on his face that made Liam’s stomach twist.

“Reeeeaaaaalllyy,” Niall said, drawing the word out interestedly.

Harry was now wearing a grin to match Louis’. “Yup,” he confirmed.

“Huh,” was all Niall answered.

Liam wanted to ask what they were all on about, but didn’t. He had a sneaking suspicion that Louis and Harry were implying Zayn had more-than-friendly feelings towards him. That hurt, because the only reason Liam could find for _that_ was that they’d somehow found out about Liam’s crush and were making fun of him for it. Liam didn’t like to think that Lou and Harry were the kind of people who would do that, but why else would they be indulging in this kind of mockery right in front of him? And how could they be so tactless as to drop hints in front of Niall? Did Niall suspect anything? He could hardly bear the thought. Liam bit the inside of his lip and tried to school his expression to not look so pained.

“Oh, Niall, Dani’s throwing a birthday bash at hers next Sunday,” Lou announced and Liam was glad for the distraction. “You in?”

“Yeah, ‘course,” Niall agreed cheerily. “Be nice to unwind when I get back.”

Liam tensed and Harry questioned, “Back?”

“Yeah,” Niall lamented. “Dad and I didn’t even finish painting the room ‘cause apparently he’s in the midst of _building_ a crib for the baby. By hand. My dad, who can’t construct anything more complicated than a wall out of Legos.” He scoffed. “Both sentimental nutcases now, I swear. Anyway, they want me back next weekend so we can finish up the room.”

Liam’s heart dropped. Niall would be going away again for a whole weekend? That sucked. That really, really sucked because two days alone in the apartment had been lonely enough and he didn’t think he could do it again. He nudged closer and Niall cautiously placed an arm over his shoulders.

“Dani’s invited Liam to the party as well,” Louis said, “though he’s proving resistant.”

Liam glared at Louis, who did not even have the grace to look ashamed.

Niall turned to him with a frown. “You should go,” he said. “You’ll have friends there, and if things get to be too much we can just leave.”

“Yeah, we wouldn’t make you stay if you really hated it,” Harry promised.

That was the thing, though, Liam wanted to say. He didn’t want the others to have to spend the party watching out for him, or leave when it inevitably became too much for Liam’s delicate sensibilities.

“You don’t have to go, if you don’t want to, though,” Niall tacked on when he saw Liam’s face fall. “We’ll talk about it later.”

Liam just put the earphone back in and allowed Niall to guide his head down onto his shoulder. No one was more surprised than Liam when he permitted this level of physical contact, though Niall was probably a close second. Maybe music mellowed him out. He relaxed into Niall’s side as the others started speculating about Danielle’s party and Niall ran his fingers through Liam’s hair.

***

Another year closer _, was all Liam could think as he watched the 11:59 on his bedside clock tick over to 12:00. Another year older, another year closer to moving out and as far away from his father as possible. He pressed his nose into his pillow and blew out a big breath against the soft flannel. Liam was sixteen. He’d soon be able to drive (if his parents ever let him), and two years from now he’d be able to vote, and in three more he could purchase alcohol (not that Liam had ever had the inclination to touch the stuff, but it was the_ ability _that counted). Okay, maybe he was getting a bit ahead of himself. But he was_ sixteen _. He felt so grown up._

 _Liam let out a squeak (a_ manly _squeak, definitely worthy of a sixteen-year-old_ man _) when he phone buzzed against the bedside table. He reached out, confused, and held it up under his nose._

From Niall: HOLY SHIT UR 16 HAPPY BIRTHDAY LIAM!!!!!

_Liam practically melted right there in his bed and actually hid his face in the pillow in embarrassment. He lifted his eyes to make sure that he hadn’t imagined the message and tried to collect himself before composing a response to Niall._

To Niall: Thanks :)

From Niall: R U PUMPED 2 GET UR LICENSE?

_Liam bit his lip. In truth, he hadn’t even gotten his permit yet. He’d asked his mother to let him take the test, but his father had forbidden it. Punishment for his falling grades. Class participation was increasingly an issue as Liam got increasingly quiet. When his teachers asked him questions in class, he would simply shrug or shake his head to avoid speech, regardless of whether he knew the answer. Liam’s teachers would shake their heads and assuredly become ever more convinced that he was either totally inept or supremely impudent. Or both._

_So the most significant, most exciting part of Liam’s sixteenth birthday was unattainable. But Liam wasn’t focusing on that. Liam was too busy feeling like a grown up, looking forward to getting out of his house. Yeah. This was exciting. He was sixteen, dammit._

To Niall: If I ever get around to passing the test haha.

_He hoped that explanation would satisfy Niall._

_Unfortunately,_ From Niall: dude, u have 2 get ur license so u can drive me 2 school! fuck the bus!!!

 _Liam slumped in defeat and tapped his fingers nervously against his chin. Should he just tell Niall the truth? He’d only known Niall for three months, and he was already the best friend Liam had ever had. The first real friend since elementary school days. And Liam knew Niall wouldn’t want it, but this only compounded Liam’s fears of screwing it up. Niall had graced Liam with his company, with his laugh, with his stories, with his encouraging words. If all Niall wanted was a friend who could drive him to school, Liam should be that, right? He_ needed _to be that._

 _Liam floundered to come up with a new excuse. But then, much to his surprise and his infinite relief:_ From Niall: just kidding bro, no pressure :) happy birthday!

 _Liam grinned._ To Niall: Thanks Niall. Really.

_The next morning, celebratory remarks regarding Liam’s birthday were forgotten, since apparently Liam had neglected to wash the dishes last night, as he’d been asked to do. Liam tried to stutter his way through an apology (Niall had helped him regain some tiny fraction of his confidence—though that was thoroughly destroyed in this encounter; his father made sure). Liam arrived at the bus stop with a sore wrist and a few bruises and lips zipped so tight he doubted even Niall would pry a word out of him today._

_When he boarded the bus, he could see Niall sitting bolt upright in his seat, looking for all the world like an excited puppy. He glimpsed Liam and practically_ glowed _with delight. He waved Liam down—like Liam didn’t see him, or didn’t know where they sat every single day—and bounced up and down impatiently as Liam progressed down the isle._

_“Happy birthday!” Niall practically shouted, such that Liam shot awkwardly apologetic looks at the people surrounding them before smiling gratefully back at his enthusiastic friend._

_“I got you something!” Niall lifted up a wrapped box from beside his feet and thrust it into Liam’s lap. Liam let out a slight_ oof _at the impact and tried to process what was happening. Niall had gotten him a birthday gift? How…Why?_

_“Open it,” Niall all but demanded, ripping the bow off the top himself, as if Liam needed to be shown how to open a present. Liam tentatively took hold of the paper and ripped away a strip. A brown box. Something Niall had to order in ahead of time? So much thought had gone into this, Liam felt hot and anxious and thrilled all at once. He removed the rest of the paper and tore at the tape encasing his gift. Then carefully lifted back the cardboard flaps._

_“I noticed yours were kinda old,” said Niall, rubbing the back of his neck now and looking sheepish. “And these are waterproof. It’s okay if they’re not your size, or you don’t like them. They can be returned, ‘n all that.”_

_Liam lifted one of the boots out of its box and held it breathlessly in his two hands, admiring it like a precious relic. He hazarded a glance up at Niall, who was watching him expectantly, and tried for a smile that could never express how truly, deeply thankful he was._

_“Th-th—“ Liam steeled himself. He could do this. It was Niall. He could do this. “Th-tha-ank y-y-…you.”_

_Niall’s smile was back on full power now, as he said, “It was no problem, dude. Happy birthday.”_

_Liam decided for just this once he could get over his no-touchy rule to give Niall a hug._

***

System of a Down’s “Chop Suey” had been stuck in Liam’s head all day.

Which, he thought, was essentially the same thing as having someone scream in your ear all day.

He’d made a pact with himself that he would listen to every song that came up on shuffle all the way through at least once before deciding he didn’t like it (Liam wanted to give himself as much exposure to Zayn’s music in the week he’d been allotted) but he thought maybe an exception could be made for System of a Down – it was simply too much. On all other counts, though, Liam was immensely enjoying his musical exploration. It was only Tuesday, and since Saturday he’d had to recharge the iPod with Niall’s computer four times. Liam spent so much of his time engrossed in music that Niall joked the only way to get Liam’s attention at home was if he recorded himself talking and loaded the track onto Zayn’s iPod. This was an exaggeration, but not by much. Liam was nearly two hundred songs into Zayn’s collection.

He liked most of it. Liam was secretly over the moon to discover he’d inherited his mother’s love for Pink Floyd. It was all he could do to keep from constantly replaying Dark Side of the Moon. He also very much liked a band called The Arctic Monkeys and, surprisingly, a group that called themselves The Spice Girls (Liam didn’t know a lot about pop culture but he was competent enough to keep that tidbit to himself).

Every so often, Zayn would ask him for updates on the music front and Liam would fill him in. Zayn seemed thoroughly interested in Liam’s opinions and genuinely excited when he learned Liam shared some of his tastes. “Have you heard any of Cake, yet?” he asked on Wednesday during lunch. When Liam replied in the negative, Zayn nodded and took a drag on his cigarette before advising, “Find them and listen to ‘Love you Madly.’ I think you’ll like it.”

Liam was awash in the glow of Zayn’s attention like a cat in the sun and the others were taking notice. Niall kept sending him and Zayn fond looks whenever he didn’t think Liam was paying attention, and Harry and Louis exchanged more conspiratorial glances than usual when Zayn and Liam were in the room. It was starting to get on Liam’s nerves, but he refrained from commenting. As long as no one was reporting his crush to Zayn and Niall was still (hopefully) oblivious, he didn’t deem this a battle worth fighting.

The Incidents were occurring with more frequent regularity this week than the last, and Liam was consequently spending more time in the filter room than usual. He could hardly keep the landscaping employees from bothering him before opening, when he was assigned solo tasks, but after eleven a.m. he spent most of his working hours hiding away in the attic. The others had made a couple of offhand comments about Liam _finally_ becoming one of them, now that he’d given up that whole “work ethic” nonsense. But Niall had also asked him upwards of a dozen times over the past few days if he was alright, citing this sudden change of habit as cause for concern. Liam shrugged him off because Liam _was a grown ass man, for god’s sakes_ who should be able to handle these things on his own, and Niall really didn’t need that kind of shit to be dealing with in the middle of his summer vacation.

 

Liam really should have told someone.

He came to the aforementioned conclusion on Thursday morning. Liam was already in a dismal mood because Niall would soon be leaving him again, and Harry and Louis were ceaseless in their attempts to convince Liam that he should attend the party. Liam was wearing thin, and he was much looking forward to the rare free day he would enjoy on Sunday (every once and a while Niall all but forced him to request a day off, claiming such long stints of work were unhealthy).

Liam was sweeping around the edge of the pool that morning, wishing that he could pop in Zayn’s earphones and listen to something while he worked. He was too paranoid to listen to music on the pool deck, even before opening, lest it be could construed as unprofessional. But Liam had the iPod securely in his zipper pocket, fully charged for the moment the park opened and Liam could spirit himself away to the filter room attic. Liam was just considering what artist would kick off his morning when a couple of large hands landed on his shoulder blades and gave him a harsh shove. A familiar snigger alerted Liam to the fact that Mean Landscaping Guys were at fault.

“H-h-hey, r-r-retard,” one of them greeted.

Liam just kept walking. _Keep your head down, don’t give them the satisfaction. And for god’s sake, don’t say anything. That’s just giving them the rope to hang you_.

“Hey, fuckhead, look at me when I’m talking to you.” A hand closed firmly on Liam’s shoulder to whirl him around, causing him to drop his pan and broom and bringing him nose-to-nose with the larger of his two tormentors.

“I was talking to you,” he snarled at Liam and jabbed him in the chest.

Over his shoulder, Liam saw the other grinning in approval, and it made his chest burn with fury. Liam was really tired of this shit. He just wanted to make it til Sunday when Niall would be back and he could spend the day curled up on the couch, maybe bake something since he hadn’t had the time in a while, read a book, drink tea. Relax. He just wanted _this_ to stop. Why didn’t it ever stop for him? First it was his father, and then the kids at school, and now these fuckers? He was done. Liam yanked his shoulder out of the other’s grip and turned to pick up his broom.

Apparently, Mean Landscaping Guy wasn’t having it, because Liam had no sooner broken their eye contact than he was shoved squarely in the back again. Liam stumbled over his cleaning supplies and tried to catch himself on something, _anything_ , but at the edge of the pool there was nothing to grip.

The water was cold. Very, very cold. But that was nothing compared to the wind in his wet hair when Liam finally broke the surface again. He bobbed around, cringing against the sting of water up his nose, and it took a moment to register the lack of insults or laughter he expected to hear. He peered over the crest of the pool to see the two landscaping employees making a hasty escape towards the Flume. Liam saw one of them throw an amused glance over his shoulder and they seemed to be giggling to each other as they went, but they hadn’t stuck around to really rub it in. Huh, that was weird. And fuck, Liam was really, really cold.

“Liam! _Liam!”_

That was Louis’s voice. Indeed, Louis and Harry were both racing towards him across the pool deck, Harry shouting obscenities at the two retreating figures. Liam tread his way over to the nearest ladder and pulled himself out with shaking limbs. Louis was waiting for him on the pool deck but Harry streaked past them with impressive speed in continued pursuit of the others.

“Fuck, Liam. Jesus, you’re shaking, babe.” Louis reached out to rub Liam’s arms but he jerked back. Liam felt justified in being more jumpy than usual, okay? Louis took his hand nonetheless. “Come on, let’s get you back to the filter room. There’s towels in the office.” Liam allowed Louis to guide him back to the attic and wrap him in towels. Louis exited briefly and returned with a dry uniform shirt and spare pair of shorts.

“Have those guys been bothering you?” Louis asked and Liam just gave him a shaky shrug in response, not feeling up to verbal communication just at the moment. Louis emitted a soft growl from the back of his throat and looked away so that Liam had some privacy to change. Liam yanked off his dripping uniform and toweled off before pulling on the fresh clothing on. His underwear, socks, and shoes were a lost cause, so he remained commando and barefoot and slid down the wall. Louis came to sit with him, not touching, just close enough to offer some silent comfort.

Sometime later, Harry and Niall appeared, both looking murderous.

Niall jerked his head in Harry’s direction and explained, “Saw Harry ready to tear the heads off two landscaping guys as I came back from vending.” He crouched down in front of Liam. “Are you okay?”

Liam nodded. Niall looked doubtful but didn’t call Liam on his bluff.

“Fucking assholes,” Harry seethed; his fingers clenched into fists. Liam had never seen calm, collected Harry so worked up over something—it took a lot to make him even snap at someone. Louis, who of course knew this better than anyone, gently took Harry’s arm and guided him into a chair. He said something in a low voice that was clearly meant to assuage his boyfriend’s anger but only incited Harry to say, “Dude, they were _laughing_! Shitheads. Fucking—should have told Simon. Should get them fired.”

Niall looked meaningfully at Louis, who carded his fingers through Harry’s hair soothingly. Liam realized for the first time that if one didn’t actually know Harry, he might be construed as a viable threat. His considerable stature, coupled with that venomous look he apparently got in his eyes when he was really pissed off about something, were actually decently scary. Certainly _Liam_ didn’t want to go within several feet of him right now, and Harry was enraged in _his_ behalf.

Harry abruptly stood up. “I’m going for a walk,” he announced and quickly left the room.

When Harry’s heavy footfalls could no longer be heard on the wooden staircase, Lou blew out a heavy sigh. “He just needs some time to cool off. I’m gonna go see if Dani has an extra pair of shoes for Liam.”

Niall nodded in agreement and slumped down beside Liam. When they were alone, Niall said, “Is that the first time those guys were bothering you? And before you say anything, hint: I’m looking for an honest answer.”

“N-no,” Liam admitted through chattering teeth. Niall draped a dry towel around his shoulders and Liam clutched at it with white knuckles.

“You should’ve told me—no, Liam, look.” Liam stopped shaking his head and met Niall’s earnest gaze. “That’s what friends do, ya know. I love you, man; you’re my best friend. But unless you tell me something’s up, I can’t be there for you. Okay?”

Liam nodded his assent (honestly, though, Niall's words of reassurance only served to make him feel more pathetic and humiliated). 

“Good,” said Niall, and left it at that. 

The rest of the day was quiet. Liam didn’t leave the attic once, and neither did Niall. Louis and Harry, on the other hand, spent most of their day out on the pool deck (whether because Harry was too worked up to trust himself around Liam, or because the couple was pulling double-duty for Liam and Niall to preserve the charade that the janitors actually _worked_ sometimes, Liam didn’t know—but he was deeply grateful). Zayn never showed up for lunch, and Liam wondered absently whether Louis and Harry had instructed him to stay away. He withered at the prospect of Zayn hearing of his humiliation and tried not to think about it too much. Finally, near the time when they were set to get off, Niall left the filter room without disclosing his intent to Liam. Liam was too upset to be overly concerned about Niall, and decided to gather up his still-damp belongings so that they could head home.

The moment he picked up his shorts, Liam remembered. Pure, unadulterated fear flooded him like cold water and his jaw actually dropped. Frantically, fumbling, he worked open the zipper of his front pocket and pulled out the iPod. With trembling fingers, he flipped the Hold key back and forth, swiped his finger in desperate circles around the pad, and pressed the buttons.

The device was utterly lifeless. Liam let out a desperate sob and rubbed his shirt frantically over the screen. Pushed more buttons. Nothing happened. Oh, Christ, what was he going to do? A quick dunk in the pool would surely be child’s play compared to what Zayn would do to him when he found out Liam had destroyed his most prized possession. Before Liam could formulate a plan, he was interrupted by the sound of feet on the staircase. He whipped around to find Zayn hovering awkwardly in the doorway, like he wasn’t sure if he was supposed to be there.

“Hey,” Zayn greeted cautiously, “Louis and Harry said to give you some space because you were upset, but I just, you know, wanted to make sure you were okay.”

Liam just stared.

“Are you, then? Okay, I mean.” Zayn looked worried, and Liam kept staring because he wanted to keep seeing that expression for a few more moments, one that indicated sympathetic feelings for Liam (because he would surely never get anything like it from Zayn again after this).

“Liam?”

Liam just held out the iPod in an open palm and waited for the storm. Zayn, obviously confused, reached out to take the contraption in his hand and Liam shuddered away from the brush of his finger tips. Zayn’s eyes flicked up to meet his own before he looked back down at the iPod. “Are you done with it? I mean, I said you could borrow it for…for a…” Zayn’s voice trailed off as his fingers brushed over the iPod. Then a more prominent pucker formed between his brows and Liam heard the soft click of buttons. He closed his eyes.

“Liam.”

Liam peeled back one of his lids cautiously to squint at Zayn and immediately wished he hadn’t. The other boy was staring at him in disbelief, clutching the broken iPod in one of two clenched fists. He wasn’t shouting yet, but Liam recognized angry eyes when he saw them. And Zayn’s eyes were _very_ angry. Liam was very glad for the several feet of space between them and even took a tremulous step back. Zayn was showing more restraint than he’d expected, but Liam’s experience reminded him it was always safer to expect the onslaught of physical violence than not.

“Liam, what the hell? Did you—you broke it?”

There was no simple answer to that question, because while Liam may not have dove into that pool voluntarily, he had been taking the rather big risk of carrying the iPod around on the pool deck, where it could so easily get wet. Liam might have explained this, but he was Liam and so the only plausible response was a shaky nod.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Zayn snapped. Liam flinched. “Fuck, Liam. I told—I _told_ you how much this thing means to me. Jesus, I thought.” He ran a hand through his hair in frustration. Then suddenly, succinctly, “God _dammit_.”

To Liam’s astonishment, Zayn turned heel and stormed out of the room.

Wait, that was it? No punches, no kicks, nothing? Liam sunk to the floor and pulled his shaking knees up to his chest, literally unable to believe what had just happened. A not insubstantial part of him was still waiting for the other shoe to drop. Surely this wasn’t over. Liam couldn’t get away with something so horrible so easily.

Liam was still in shock when Niall came bounding back into the room with a big smile on his face. Liam didn’t even have it in him to ask what Niall was so happy about. He tried to smile back and must have had at least marginal success because Niall said happily, “Ready to go?”

Liam nodded and pushed off the floor. Luckily on their way out, they did not run into Zayn.

***

If Liam thought it’d been difficult to watch Niall go the first time, this week put those anxieties to shame. He actually choked up as Niall headed for the door and didn’t trust himself to say goodbye. They exchanged another brief hug and Niall gave him a scrutinizing once-over.

“Are you sure you’re gonna be okay? You could always come with.” Niall gestured invitingly to the hall but Liam shook his head vigorously. Niall sighed. “Okay. Then please _consider_ coming to Dani’s with us on Sunday. Remember our talk about fun, young people things? This is one of those things. And don’t stay holed up in the apartment all weekend. At the very least, have someone come over to hang out. Really. Louis, or Harry, or Zayn would love to spend time with you.”

 _That’s a laugh_ , Liam thought bitterly at the mention of Zayn. The other boy didn’t even want to be in the same room with him, as he’d made abundantly clear all day. When Zayn didn’t make even one appearance in the attic, the others speculated about what was keeping him, but Liam couldn’t bring himself to tell them that it was his fault. Zayn hated him and apparently couldn’t even bear to be around Liam for the sake of his friendships with the others. Liam was a friendship ruiner. He ruined friendships.

“Okay?” Niall persisted.

“Okay,” Liam lied, and closed the door on an only slightly reassured Niall.

The evening was long and quiet—Liam had forgotten how quiet the world could be when he was alone and there was no music to be heard. It disturbed him. Which was a surprising revelation. Surely the first nineteen years of his life hadn’t been so quiet? How could he have lived like this? Now that Liam had a taste of overwhelming musical variety at his fingertips, he wasn’t sure he could go back. Eventually, Liam ventured into Niall’s room and brought out his laptop. He clicked through YouTube video after YouTube video of songs he remembered from Zayn’s iPod and even ventured out to select a few new songs. He finally settled on a full run of _The Wall_. It soothed some of the anxious twisting in his stomach and stilled his trembling hands as he prepared dinner for himself and ate standing at the counter.

At least, he thought dismally, picking at bits of his hotdog bun, at least he’d gotten _this_ from his relationship with Zayn before blowing it. At least he had something to show for his abysmal attempt at socialization. Now it just remained to follow Zayn’s lead in the ignoring game for the rest of the summer. The prospect of such unrelenting tension made Liam’s stomach seize up with nerves again, but he could hardly do anything about it. Zayn had every right to resent Liam for what he’d done, and Liam should count himself lucky to have gotten out unscathed.

The worst part of it was that Liam had never gotten to apologize. He’d fucked even _that_ up, hadn’t he? Well, he couldn’t very well go up to Zayn _now_ and say he was sorry. The very idea that Liam would ever be able to force out another word in Zayn’s presence was comical.

But maybe…maybe he could do something else. Just so that Zayn knew how sorry he was?

Well, why wait until Sunday to bake? It was one of the few things Liam knew he was at least _decent_ at. Would it be totally cheesy and horrific to make Zayn cookies to apologize for his gross faux pas? Did it even matter at this point? Cookies couldn’t possibly make a situation any worse, could they?

Ultimately, Liam was too antsy to sit and do nothing, and admittedly he did cling to some small, feeble hope that Zayn would be softened by his peace offering. Also (and Liam was loath to admit it even to himself) there was a terrifyingly wonderful sense of _home_ in the idea of using his mother’s favorite chocolate chip cookie recipe. Before Liam could convince himself how stupid and futile this whole project was, he set to work. Liam felt a renewed sense of purpose as he went about his task and even caught himself nodding and moving his hips along to the music. He glanced self-consciously over his shoulder before remembering he was alone in the apartment. As he folded the chips into his dough, Liam even worked up the confidence to hum out a couple of lines. Softly, at first, but by the second bar he could almost hear himself over the speakers of the laptop.

Humming was good, he decided: no consonants to trip over or vowels to transition between. He could carry a tune and the pleasant buzz in his chest made him (dare he say it) _pleased_. He felt good. Just here, by himself, despite the shit-show that was his life, Liam was filled with a rare contentedness derived from baking cookies and humming to himself. He choked out a hysterical laugh and didn’t even clap a hand over his mouth.

This was weird, Liam thought. _New_. But good.

Despite the emptiness of the apartment that night, the fragrance of freshly baked pastries and the sustained background noise of _Atom Heart Mother_ eased Liam into a more peaceful sleep than he’d experienced in a long time.

 

Liam only wished he could have bottled up some of that self-confidence and saved it for the following day. When he arrived at work the following morning, Liam immediately headed for vending (if his cookies even entered the filter room attic they were sure to be inhaled by Harry, Louis, and Nick within the hour). As he crossed the pool deck, he hummed so nervously to himself that the notes came out all shaky and only made him feel worse. Liam rounded the corner where he’d first seen Zayn and paused to take a deep breath. _Breathe, Liam. You just have to hand him the plate of cookies and leave. That’s all. You can handle this._

With a determined exhale, Liam marched towards the door and wrenched it open.

The kitchen was empty except for a short blonde girl hunched over a chopping board. She looked up at Liam with darkly-lidded eyes and scrunched up one side of her nose thoughtfully.

“You aren’t Zayn,” she announced.

Liam shook his head in agreement.

The girl wiped her hands on a very dirty apron and stepped forward to meet Liam, who just stood their dumbly, holding his cookies.

“Perrie,” she introduced. “I’d shake your hand, but.” Perrie gestured to the plate in Liam’s vice-like grip.

“L-L-Liam.”

“Ah, _Liam_.” Her eyes widened in recognition, though Liam was 100% sure they’d never met. “Looking for Zayn?” This treatment was too similar to the way Louis and Harry had been acting lately for Liam’s comfort. Especially with the added complication of Zayn actually hating him now. He just nodded.

“He’s working afternoon today. But you could come by at three?”

“Oh, n-no.” There was no way Liam could do this a _second_ time today. “But. F-for him.” He shoved the plate of cookies at Perrie. “Te-tell him ‘so-orry’.”

Perrie’s eyebrows shot up but before she could ask any questions Liam was out the door.

That evening, as he opened the fridge to scrounge for food, Liam realized that some small good had come from this whole situation: it was the second day in a row that he hadn’t so much as seen Mean Landscaping Guys, let alone been shoved in a pool by one. Harry, it seemed, had been successful in permanently scared them off. Hmm. Maybe Liam should have baked cookies for _Harry_. Liam would need more chips, but that was fine. It was looking like he’d need to make a grocery run anyway. Other than a jar of pickles (only filled with juice), the heels of a loaf of bread, and some mustard, the kitchen was pretty well out of food. Did he really want to deal with the human chaos that was the supermarket, though? Liam was just contemplating the feasibility of actually motivating himself to leave the apartment when his phone lit up with a text message. 

_From Niall: hey dude would u mind picking up my check from admin? i texted dani and she says shes there til 8_

Oh, shit. Liam had completely forgotten it was payday. A glance over to the microwave clock told him it was just after seven now. After sending Niall a quick reply in the affirmative, he shoved his sneakers on and slipped a sweatshirt over his head. He didn’t like to walk alone after sundown, but if he left now he could make a quick stop at the grocery and still make it to the park by eight to pick up their checks. He would be back in the apartment within the hour.

*** 

“Ah-ah-ah.” Danielle dangled the envelopes just out of Liam’s reach with a tantalizing smile. “On one condition.”

“ _Dani_ ,” Liam pleaded. He put down the grocery bags and made to snatch the envelopes away. Danielle easily whisked them behind her back. “You know what I want.”

Liam considered his options. On the one hand, he could just leave right now and not have to deal with this shit. He could be home and preheating the oven for dinner in fifteen minutes if he power-walked. On the other, Niall was depending on him. And he could always _lie_ to Danielle, if it came to that. Liam was extremely doubtful she would ever notice if he didn’t show up to the party.

“M-maybe,” Liam allowed, which he thought was pretty generous, considering it was more than he’d budged during the whole week of Danielle, Harry, and Louis’s combined pestering. He hoped it would be enough.

“No sell.” Damn. “Seriously, Liam. Come.” She fixed him with the sternest of gazes, paychecks held firmly behind her back. Liam just looked at her. He was ready to walk out the door when Danielle started floundering for new leverage and came up with, “I’ll get Zayn in here to help convince you, if I have to.”

That stopped Liam in his tracks. He shot a “you wouldn’t” glare at Danielle, who just picked up the phone and punched in what Liam assumed must be the extension for vending.

“N-no!” Liam lurched forward over the desk and made grabby hands for the phone while Danielle launched her roller chair backwards out of arm’s length, cackling madly. The laughter broke off abruptly and she greeted, “Zayn. Hello. Could you—”

“ _Okay!_ ”

Danielle cupped a hand over the mouthpiece and looked up at him with feigned innocence. “Okay _what_?”

Liam snorted impatiently and she grinned impishly back at him.

“I w-will come to y-y-your p-party.”

In the silence that followed his agreement, Liam could hear Zayn’s impatient, questioning voice trying to regain Danielle’s attention over the phone.

“Thank you,” Danielle said graciously. Into the phone, she continued, “Never mind. Just trying to get your help with something regarding Liam. It’s all good now, though.”

Liam intentionally took a few steps back so he couldn’t hear Zayn’s response to that. Danielle hung up the phone, handed Liam the paychecks, and he stuffed the envelopes in his hoody pocket without thanking her. She seemed immutably happy, though, calling a “see you tomorrow!” after him as he retrieved his groceries from the floor and stepped out.

Liam crossed the pool deck, nodding at a couple of the evening-shift janitors and avoiding packs of screaming children while they raced towards the water for one last cannonball before closing. Most of the day’s patrons had already trickled out to their SUVs and minivans to depart with towel-wrapped children and empty coolers. Liam thought maybe he’d like working the evening shift sometime; he only ever got to see the peace of the park destroyed at opening, and departed mid-afternoon when everything was in full swing. He thought it might be nice to end the day like this, sun almost set over the hills and the shrieks of excitable children vanished from the air.

Liam flicked a tired salute at the employee sitting at the parking lot gate, who did not even look up from his book to acknowledge Liam. He headed back in the direction of the apartment, trailing a finger along the fence that surrounded the park and humming quietly to himself. The gentle _shhh_ of his finger’s brush along the wood and the gentle vibration in his throat was enough to keep Liam’s peace of mind despite the sun disappearing behind the trees and the lengthening of his shadow.

These were not distraction enough, however, to keep him from noticing the fist suddenly balled in the hood of his sweatshirt. He gagged as the hand yanked backwards and felt grocery bags slip from his fingers. Before Liam could catch his breath he was whirled around and slammed into the fence. He winced as the back of his head made sharp contact with the wood and scrunched his eyelids closed against the white spots prickling his vision.

“You like that, dickhead?” At this point, Liam believed opening his eyes to confirm the identity of his assailant would be somewhat redundant; he was quite familiar with that voice, and the attack-from-behind maneuver seemed a favorite. A hearty punch landed in his stomach and Liam wheezed out a pained grunt. “You got me fired, asshole.” Another punch to the ribs. “Little _shit_.”

Liam delivered a desperate shove to Mean Landscaping Guy’s chest, and when he momentarily stumbled back Liam launched forward to knock him in the nose with a fist. He was almost impressed with himself for the split second before that hand was caught and used to sling him to the ground face first. Several swift kicks were delivered to his legs, stomach, and back in quick succession, all the while his attacker muttering obscenities and insults, which went unappreciated since Liam’s attention was otherwise occupied at the moment. Liam curled up in a ball and utilized his best defense mechanism, tried-and-true with his father: simply waiting for the end.

The end came much sooner than Liam expected, which was the first surprise. Quite suddenly, heavy blows were no longer raining down upon his person. The second surprise was that Liam could still hear the sounds of a scuffle above him and pained moans he was fairly sure he wasn’t producing. After a moment of self-assessment, he confirmed that no, that definitely wasn’t him. Liam thought maybe he should look up to see exactly what the fuck was going on overhead, but it sounded violent and Liam thought better of it (he was also wary to relinquish the amount of protection he now had around his face). Bruises in the cranial region were difficult to hide...The usual anxiety was starting to settle in now, the calculations, the plans: _Please don’t let anyone see, please don’t let anyone know, so weak, so stupid, long sleeves and pants for the week, please don’t let them know what I made him do, please don’t let them see—_

A hand landed on his shoulder and Liam recoiled with a whimper. The hand was immediately retracted. He registered dimly that the violent noises above him had ceased and there was silence for all but labored breathing (whether his own or not, Liam was in no state to tell). God, but everything hurt. It took Liam a few moments to remember where he was—outside the park, on the grass. Not in the kitchen. Not in his bedroom. An almost hysterical sense of relief filled him.

“Liam?”

Liam knew that voice but under the current circumstances he was drawing a blank. Who was that?

“Liam.”

Liam thought he knew, and yet the answer didn’t make any sense. Of all people, why would Zayn-?

Slowly, very slowly, Liam unwrapped the arms from around his head and blinked up at his rescuer. Yep, that was definitely Zayn. Ruffled, certainly, and out of breath, but looking generally unharmed. Liam observed the determined set of his law and the livid flare of his nostrils. Humiliation coursed through Liam at the sight of his crush and he was overcome with the urge to draw his legs even closer into his chest. Liam gawked up at Zayn, the “thank you” he so desperately needed to say was caught in his throat along with a rapidly swelling lump. He swallowed convulsively but the pain permeating his torso and his limbs, coupled with his confusion about apparently being saved by the one person (at least in this state) that had most reason to hate him, left him frozen in place. Well not completely frozen, he supposed, horribly aware of how badly he was trembling.

Fuck everything. He wanted to crawl into a hole and die.

“Liam?” The name came out as a question again, but Liam was spared from answering when Zayn continued, “Here, let’s get you up. Or. Should I help? I know you don’t like when people touch you…” Zayn trailed off helplessly, hands held uselessly in the air above Liam. Liam noted with a roll of nausea that the knuckles of Zayn’s right hand were smeared with blood. He recalled his first conversation with Zayn— _Oh yeah? New in town? Or just stuck here by an overbearing parent for bashing some guy’s nose in?_ —and wondered idly whether Mean Landscaping Guy had just gotten something of his own bashed in. A shiver ran down Liam’s spine. Which was absurd, he reminded himself. Zayn wouldn’t hurt him; he’d been _protecting_ Liam, despite everything. Zayn had done everything to earn his trust.

And yet Liam still couldn’t bear the thought of Zayn touching him just at the moment. He hoisted himself painfully into a sitting position and then stood up with shaking legs. Zayn pushed up from his crouch and watched him cautiously, hands still held out like he was approaching a frightened animal. Zayn didn’t ask if he was okay, which was an enormous relief because then Liam would either have to lie or look even more pitiful than he already did. “Should I call Niall?” Zayn asked, reaching to pull out his phone.

Liam shook his head emphatically. Oh, god, what would Niall say? “P-p-please, d-don’t—don’t t-t-te-ell,” he begged, wincing at the way his usually-tenuous control over words had deteriorated to practically nothing.

He could only imagine how bad he must look right now.

Zayn seemed to consider but then pointed out, “Don’t you think he’ll find out anyway, when you come home like this?” He waved generally at Liam’s body.

So, it must be pretty bad.

“H-he’s g-g-gone til to-tom-tomo-orrow.” Liam picked nervously at the sleeves of his sweatshirt and looked around at his groceries, strewn all over the ground. At least he could still feel the stiffness of paper across his stomach, meaning that their paychecks were secure.

“You’re staying alone?” Zayn’s tone was practically saturated with concern, which shocked Liam into making eye contact again. He nodded. Zayn looked thoroughly displeased.

“No,” he decided and leaned over to pick up Liam’s grocery bags. “Can you walk okay?” Liam considered, and then nodded. “You off tomorrow?” Another nod. “Right. You’re coming back to mine.”

Liam stood stalk-still, certain he must have misheard, but—but Zayn was _taking_ his groceries. Zayn took a step towards the parking lot and looked expectantly at Liam, who cautiously followed. Zayn walked closely, almost protectively by his side but their arms did not so much as brush against each other. Liam was intensely grateful for this courtesy, especially since right now he would very much like to shed his own skin and crumble into a pathetic pile of shame.

“This one here,” Zayn informed him when they arrived at the car. He unlocked and opened the passenger-side door for Liam, who slipped into the seat wordlessly. In the narrow window of time between his door closing and the driver-side door opening, Liam allowed himself a quiet sob and subsequently shoved a fist into his mouth to quell the rest that threatened to follow.

As they pulled out of the lot, Liam stared out his side window and said nothing. Zayn followed suit and turned on the radio so that quiet music could fill up the space between them. Liam recognized the song from Zayn’s iPod and felt a fresh wave of distress wash through him. Liam shifted uncomfortably, trying to accommodate his bruises and having little success.

“His nose was already bleeding, you know,” Zayn said abruptly, catching Liam off guard. Zayn raised his right hand off the steering wheel to indicate the blood. “Something must have knocked him pretty good before I got there.”

Liam responded with a strangled sound that was half-sob, half-laugh and he saw Zayn smile. “Asshole,” Zayn declared viciously, but didn’t stop smiling. “Real weeper, too. Blubbering all over the place. You’d think anyone who could land several hits could take a few, too.”

Liam didn’t want to imagine how badly Zayn must have beaten Mean Landscaping Guy in order to elicit tears. There was a long pause before Liam could muster up the courage to say, “Thank y-you. I—I thought…th-thought you h-hated me.” It was fortunate that they pulled up to a red light because Zayn actually turned in his seat to face Liam dead on. Liam shrank back under his hard gaze and resisted the instinct to close his eyes.

“No,” Zayn informed him. “Never.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! Hope you enjoyed reading this one. Comments and kudos are much appreciated, and they're always good motivation to keep posting :)


	4. Part 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> PLEA FOR A FAVOR: hey guys! so my track changes got a bit fucked up, and somehow merged the comments/changes in the margins with the actual text. i scanned through and i think i caught most of those instances, but if you find any really blatantly obvious mistakes, please let me know in the comments. thanks!

Zayn lived in a bedroom above the garage of his family’s home. Which was a huge relief because when they pulled into the driveway and Liam saw lights on in the house, he started to panic. This was not just any family, it was his _boss_. This was his _boss’s_ home. He could only imagine how he looked right now. What would Zayn’s family say?

“Don’t worry.” Zayn’s commanding, yet comforting tone sliced easily through Liam’s internal turmoil and made him look up. “We don’t have to go in the main house. You cool to walk up stairs?” After receiving confirmation from Liam, Zayn led the way into the garage. As they went, Liam had a moment to properly admire how _big_ the whole place was. He wondered how many multiples of his own family’s house could fit inside this place. Entering Zayn’s bedroom was rather like entering the filter room attic, except in place of a rickety wooden structure, there was a small metal staircase coiled around a pole in the corner. They ascended to a small landing with a single door which, when opened, let out a gust of cool air that relieved Liam of the sticky summer evening air.

Liam could not comfortably say that he knew Zayn _well_ , but if he had to describe the boy’s bedroom prior to entering it, his first glance of the place was pretty much what he would have guessed. The maroon-painted walls could hardly be seen behind a myriad of band and movie posters, some of which Liam could proudly say he recognized, but others were totally lost on him (what, exactly, _Eraserhead_ was, Liam was apparently not hipster or cultured enough to know—nor was he sure he wanted to). There were also a couple of _Read_ posters of the type Liam remembered seeing around his old elementary school, though instead of Disney Channel stars, Zayn’s celebrities of choice seemed mostly to be authors. The white carpet was covered in piles of clothes, stacks (upon stacks upon stacks) of books, and several blotchy coffee/soda stains. There was a wooden desk shoved in one corner of the room that held even more books, a chess set in midgame, a take-away bag from Five Guys, a laptop, and several mugs with teabag tags dangling out of them. A rather dilapidated couch hunched against the wall and hosted a series of mismatched pillows and blankets.

“Sorry it’s kind of a mess,” Zayn apologized, flipping the duvet up to cover his bunched-up sheets in a pitiful attempt to make the bed. Liam shrugged his indifference and winced at the movement. Zayn went over to the mini-fridge beside his desk, which had magnets and photographs plastered haphazardly across its door.

“Take a seat on the bed,” he instructed from the bowels of the refrigerator. Liam sat. Zayn returned with as many icepacks as he had fingers and dropped them down on the bed beside Liam, wiping his hands on his pants. Liam could guess why he had all those on hand.

“Should probably get something for your forehead, too,” Zayn mused, crouching momently to rummage for something under the bed. His forehead? Liam reached up to see what all the fuss was about and felt something sticky. Ah. Zayn emerged with a small first aid kit in hand, which read “Babysitter Academy” in purple, loopy writing across the top. Liam wasn’t sure if he could ask, but Zayn must have seen his amused, curious smile because he said, “Yeah, yeah. Doniya got it when she took this after-school babysitting class like, a million years ago. Turns out _I_ needed it more often than her in high school. So, it’s kind of a permanent fixture in the room now.”

Liam _hmm_ -ed his reply and watched Zayn take out a butterfly bandage.

“Be right back,” Zayn promised before disappearing into the bathroom. He came out with a damp washcloth in hand and a renewed hesitancy about him (that in turn made Liam nervous). “Ah, do you mind if I clean it up?” Zayn pointed with the cloth-covered hand to Liam’s head. “I mean, you could go in the bathroom and do it I just figured it’d be easier if—“

“N-no, you. You c-can.”

Liam tensed at the sting of the washcloth but Zayn murmured quiet reassurances under his breath that lit a warm, tingling feeling in Liam’s stomach. He took deep, shuddering breaths because Zayn was very close to him now. Since it felt too awkward to look at Zayn’s eyes while he worked, Liam found himself staring intently at a pair of slightly parted lips. He was torn between disappointment and relief with Zayn pulled away to retrieve the butterfly bandage, which he gently applied to Liam’s forehead.

“Th-thanks,” Liam mumbled.

“’course. Anywhere else need bandaging?”

Liam removed his sweatshirt to check out both of his arms and then his shins. A few scrapes here or there and some bruising but nothing major. He also felt the back of his head for any sign of blood, and felt a tender bump but thankfully no stickiness. All that remained was the disaster that inevitably lay beneath his shirt and shorts. He glanced nervously at Zayn, not really sure of a way to go about this without disrobing. Wonderful as the prospect of being half-naked in a room with Zayn may be in his dreams or fantasies, this was real life and Liam couldn’t—no. Just no.

“You could go in the bathroom if you need privacy…” Zayn offered, seeming to pick up on Liam’s discomfort. He held out the first aid kit for Liam to take. Liam nodded gratefully and hurried off to the bathroom, closing the door carefully behind him.

Liam rested the first aid box atop the toilet seat before getting a good look at his face in the mirror…and quickly looked away because if there was any surer way to lose his dignity in front of his crush than getting the shit beaten out of him, it was getting the shit beaten out of him and subsequently having an emotional breakdown in said crush’s bathroom. Liam yanked off his shirt and shorts and examined his messily bruised torso and thighs critically. Definitely…definitely not _worse_ than anything his dad had ever done. And he didn’t have any trouble breathing, so no broken ribs. Liam twisted awkwardly to get a look at his back, which looked similarly discolored. Minor scrapes, cuts. No big.

A soft knock on the door made him jump. “Liam, I’ve left some clothes by the door if you want to get out of your dirty ones. I’m gonna be in the house for a few minutes but I’m coming back, okay?”

“’kay,” Liam called. He waited to hear the other door open and shut before he emerged from the bathroom. He kicked off his shoes and shed his shirt and shorts before pulling on the clothing Zayn had left him. The sweatpants and old t-shirt felt soft and safe around him. Liam sat painfully back down on the bed and started arranging the ice packs as necessary on his legs and torso.

“How bad is it?” Zayn asked when he reentered the room a few minutes later. He popped open a soda can and handed another to Liam.

“N-not bad,” Liam lied.

“Any better with the ice packs?”

“I w-want a sh-sh-shirt of ice packs,” Liam muttered childishly and put one down on his knee to take the can. Zayn smiled tightly, like he wanted to laugh but wasn’t allowing himself.

“You sure you’re okay? ‘Cause from what I saw…” Zayn trailed off doubtfully.

Liam felt uncomfortable and compensated by taking a too-big sip of soda and choking around the carbonation. Zayn moved to thump his back but thought better of it and hovered anxiously over Liam instead, hands held uselessly in the air. Liam was learning that this was his default position when he wanted to help but couldn’t without touching. Zayn was a very hand-on person, and he was only restraining himself out of consideration for Liam.

“’m o—ok-kay,” Liam coughed out in reassurance, putting his can down on the bedside table and taking up the ice pack again.

Zayn’s phone beeped. He pulled it out and scanned the screen before slipping it back in his pocket. “I texted Niall,” he explained. Liam blanched. “I told him you’d be crashing here tonight, so not to worry when he came home to an empty apartment tomorrow. Didn’t tell him about the…fight. But you know he’s gonna know what happened when he sees.” Liam hung his head.

The spot next to him on the bed dipped as Zayn sat down. “You going to tell me why you don’t want him to know?”

Liam mulled that over. Zayn had phrased his question in such a way that Liam could respond by not responding at all—another one of those undeserved courtesies that Zayn just seemed to dish out when it came to Liam. Really, though, Liam owed Zayn quite a bit right now; who was he to refuse something so small as an explanation?

“That g-guy. He, uh. Th-that’s not…” Liam rubbed a wiped a hand over his face. “N-not the first t-t-time we’ve ha-had a prob—a problem.” In his periphery, Liam saw Zayn’s hand clench over his knee, but he said nothing so Liam continued. “L-last time h-he was m-me-essing with m-m-me, N-Niall was so. So m-mad.”

He snuck a peek up at Zayn, who was chewing on his lip and watching Liam intently. Zayn took the pause to mean he was meant to speak, and said, “I’m surprised that you’re surprised; of course he was angry at that asshole.”

“N-n-not that.” Liam puffed out and forced himself to continue because this was definitely the most words he’d ever said to Zayn and he could feel himself running out of steam. “H-he was mad at m-m-me for n-not telling him a-about it and th-then I gue-ess he t-t-told Simon and got the g-guys fired for sh-shov-shoving me in the p-p-poo-ool and g-gave me this…this lec-ect-ecture ab-about t-t-telling him things and now he’s—he’s g-go-oing t-to think I d-d-didn’t listen.” Liam sucked in a much-needed breath and willed his heart to stop beating so frantically.

Zayn, Liam realized, was suspiciously still beside him and the grip on his knee had gone white-knuckled (this did not bode well). When he mustered the will to look up, Zayn wasn’t watching him anymore. His eyes were fixed on some spot across the room and the corner of his mouth was twitching dangerously. It was a controlled expression that somehow still intimated extreme danger and quelled the questions that bubbled to Liam’s lips. He had absolutely no idea what had sparked such an intense reaction from Zayn…though he probably wouldn’t have to wait very long to find out.

As suspected, Zayn suddenly stood up and stalked across the room. At first Liam thought he was leaving, but Zayn stopped at the door and wheeled around. Liam was rigid in his seat, fingers slowly going numb from their stationary hold on the ice packs. Zayn was practically incandescent with anger.

“Mother _fucker_ ,” he spat. Zayn was visibly shaking and Liam drew his knees up to his chest automatically, letting the ice packs slide onto the duvet. _He’s not going to hurt you. Stop being an idiot._ Easier said than done, though, because Liam’s core felt absolutely frigid with fear. He tucked his chin behind his knees.

“That—that piece of _shit_ ,” Zayn bit out, “pushed you in the pool?”

Liam blinked. That’s what this was about? They’d already established that Mean Landscaping Guy and his cohort had it out for Liam. This shouldn’t be shocking, rage-inducing information. He nodded, for lack of a better idea about how to react.

Zayn barked out a humorless laugh. “On Thursday, when Harry said you were so upset? And looked like he was going to kill someone. And you…I saw you carry around my iPod at work. That thing never left your pocket.” Zayn paused, as if waiting for a significant revelation to fully take hold of him. “You let me think you broke my shit. When actually, someone pushed you in a pool.”

These weren’t questions, or if they were, they were rhetorical. But Zayn’s eyes seemed to be demanding an explanation. Which once again left Liam in the quandary of deciding how to respond. Zayn maintained their eye contact for a few more seconds before feeling around in his pockets and drawing out a pack of cigarettes. He shook one out, lit it, and opened a window. Liam didn’t even mind the scent so much anymore (it was stale and sour but Liam now associated it with a certain Zayn-ness he couldn’t help but feel drawn to), he just wanted Zayn to calm down so _he_ could calm down. Zayn didn’t say anything while he smoked the cigarette, just stared out the window while Liam waited tensely.

When Zayn was finished, he hooked an arm around the side of the window to smash the butt out against the brick. Then he tossed it in the trash and said, with much more composure than before, “Mom’d kill me if she knew I did that. Never lets me smoke in the house, even up here.”

Liam thought of his own mother, who would have killed him if he had so much as looked at a cigarette, let alone smoked one in the house. That was one aspect of his health she’d been adamant about protecting (Liam felt the stirrings of bitterness in his heart and quickly stuffed those unpleasant thoughts away in a mental cupboard, unwilling to deal with that whole can of worms today, of all days).

Zayn walked over to his desk and rummaged around for something behind the take-out bag. When he withdrew a plate Liam recognized from Niall’s apartment, Liam bit his lip. He watched warily as Zayn brought the plate forward and put it on his bedside table. The plastic wrap remained around the pile of cookies Liam had so carefully arranged on the plate, blatantly untouched. Unwanted. Liam bit down harder on his lip because damn it, he’d made it this far without crying.

“Perrie gave those to me when I came in today. Told me they were an apology from you.”

Now that Liam actually had to face Zayn in the presence of his sorry excuse for a white flag, he realized what a stupid idea the cookies had been. His lip trembled and he sunk his teeth further into it. Liam desperately wanted to be anywhere but here right now. Including work. Including school. Including submerged in the pool. Including home—actual home, not Niall’s home, and that was certainly saying something.

“Liam, that was stupid.”

Liam nodded miserably. Didn’t he know it.

Zayn crouched down in front of the bed to invade Liam’s line of vision. “It was stupid ‘cause you didn’t have to apologize for anything. D’you get that?”

Liam looked at him uncomprehendingly because no, Liam did not get that. Liam was socially incompetent. Had that not been established many times over?

Zayn blew out a breath of frustration. “Liam, it wasn’t your fault my iPod broke. And you knew it wasn’t your fault and you baked me cookies anyway.”

“But you were m-m-mad,” Liam whispered, feeling dangerously out of his depth.

“Yeah, but—Look, I _was_ royally pissed at you, okay? But that was when I didn’t know I _should_ be blaming some idiot who goes around pushing people into pools.”

“But - ”

“Did you ask to get shoved in the pool?” Zayn’s tone was infuriatingly patient, as if Liam were both a small child and inordinately obtuse.

“N-no!”

Zayn lifted his hands in the air to indicate, _well, then?_

Liam and Zayn were clearly not on the same page. “I j-just didn’t w-w-want you to. To. To h-hate me anymore.” Liam loathed the needy, broken way that last part came out.

“Liam,” Zayn started again, more gently than Liam believed anyone had ever spoken to him, “I told you: I don’t hate you. I was ignoring you because I wanted to be mad at you for a while but I didn’t want to ruin us being friends—“ Zayn paused and pressed his lips together like he was quavering on whether or not he should say what he was going to. “…I mean, the last time I blew up at you everything went to hell, remember?”

Still struggling to process that explanation, Liam rather rudely blurted out the word “Friends?”

Zayn blinked. “Of course _friends_. You think we aren’t friends?” Zayn looked pointedly around the room as if trying to remind Liam where they were.

Oh. For all of Zayn’s efforts at the task, Liam wasn’t sure when they’d actually passed from “acquaintances” or “coworkers” into the “friends” category. He hadn’t known Zayn felt that way about him.

Zayn chuckled and stood up. “I don’t understand you, Liam.” His voice was fond rather than accusing, so Liam returned with a weak, somewhat abashed smile.

“So, friends?” Zayn sounded like he was asking for confirmation.

Liam nodded eagerly.

“Good,” settled Zayn. “In the spirit of that ruling, then…” He unwrapped the plate of cookies and handed one to Liam before biting into one himself. Zayn moaned appreciatively and Liam could have giggled at how much he was reminded of Niall in that moment. He nibbled at his own cookie.

“This is fantastic,” complimented Zayn. “I had to bring these home during my break because I couldn’t stand looking at them anymore without eating all of them. And then I would have felt guilty, so.”

Liam tilted his head in a questioning fashion. Zayn smiled indulgently down at him. “I was trying to be mad at you, and you were making it really fucking difficult. I mean, you made me cookies, for Christsakes. Who does that?” Zayn snatched up another cookie and plopped down on the other side of the bed. “By the end of the day I was about to come kiss-and-make-up with you. ‘s why I came running over to admin after Dani called, but then…” Zayn trailed off for Liam to mentally fill in the blanks, but he was still reeling from the phrase “kiss-and-make-up.” Even though he totally knew it was just an expression. Just an expression.

“You make these from scratch?” asked Zayn mid-chew.

“Mmhmm.” Liam picked up one of the forgotten icepacks and put it to his side, leaning down onto the pillow so he was lying next to Zayn.

“Amazing,” was the verdict. Liam glowed with pride. “A man who can cook. You must be a killer with the ladies.” Zayn sounded like he was joking, but Liam froze up nonetheless.

“N-no,” he murmured.

He heard Zayn’s hair swipe against the pillow and knew that the other had turned to look at him. “With the guys, then?” Zayn prompted.

He sounded less joking now and Liam didn’t like it. Zayn almost seemed like he was fishing for something. But before Liam could even formulate a lie, Zayn hurried on, “It’s okay if you are. I am. Into dudes, that is.”

It was Liam’s turn to swivel his head and stare at Zayn, who looked utterly calm. Their faces were now so close that Liam was practically inhaling Zayn’s exhales and his head felt light as a balloon. “Yeah, it never came up at work so I wasn’t sure whether you knew or not,” he continued. “I think Lou and Harry know. Gay-dar, and all that.” Zayn was actually grinning now, and Liam couldn’t seem to be able to work the muscles in his face. For the first time, Zayn’s confident expression faltered. “Aaaaaand you look freaked out,” he concluded, eying Liam worriedly. “Sorry if that bothers you. I wasn’t going to start hitting on you or anything.”

Something in Liam shattered. Of course he wasn’t. Even with this new, paradigm-altering information about Zayn’s sexuality, there was still no hope. Of course his crush was not reciprocated. How could it be? Liam was nothing. Just look at him.

Just look at Zayn, though, who appeared seriously concerned that Liam might actually hate him for this. Liam had to fix that. “N-no. No.” And again for good measure, “ _No_.” He reached out and awkwardly patted Zayn’s hand in what he hoped was a reassuring manner and put on a rather crumpled smile.

Zayn, apparently appeased, smiled back. “Good. I figured you’d be okay, since you obviously know about Harry and Louis. But some people react… poorly.” The last part indicated some sort of sour history, one that Liam was sure he could identify with. _I know_ , he almost disclosed, stopping himself just in time. He nodded to show he sympathized with Zayn, but kept his lips zipped lest something too honest slip out. Zayn had just made it painfully clear that he didn’t want Liam like that, and Liam knew that others had noticed the awe-struck way he often acted in Zayn’s presence. If Zayn found out he was… _like that_ , then it wouldn’t be too far a leap to figure out how Liam felt about him. Zayn would be put in the awkward position of rebuking Liam’s affections and that would ruin things more thoroughly than any broken iPod ever could.

“We should probably eat something other than cookies,” Zayn suggested, filling Liam’s silence courteously as always. “Had dinner yet?” Liam shook his head. “I could order pizza. What do you take on it?”

Liam shrugged and held his palms up to convey his indifference.

Zayn _tsk_ -ed at him and rolled off the bed to go retrieve his phone. “Liam, I thought we’d established your opinion matters here. If you don’t offer up any recommendations, I’m going to order anchovy. Don’t think I won’t.” He looked serious enough. This effectively spurred Liam to propose a ham and pineapple pizza instead.

 

***

 

“I think my mom wants to adopt you,” Zayn commented over _The Princess Bride_ , which didn’t really matter because Liam had already seen it a bazillion times.

Liam felt himself redden and Zayn snickered beside him. They’d entered the main house briefly to retrieve additional sodas to consume with their pizza and had run into Zayn’s parents, as well as his younger sister Safaa. Zayn was kind enough to take the reins on introductions so Liam didn’t have to speak much. Liam had limited experience in the art of friend-making, let alone meeting friends’ families, so he wasn’t entirely sure how this was supposed to work. Especially given that Yaser Malik was his employer. Liam just tried to smile a lot and answer their few questions with minimal stammering. It had seemed to work well enough, though, because he’d gotten many smiles in return and regardless of what he’d heard about Mr. Malik from his coworkers, Zayn’s father was nothing but hospitable and friendly. Maybe he was different around the park. If Liam was in charge of clowns like Louis, Harry, and Niall, he’d probably put on a stern face, too.

“I’m serious,” Zayn persisted. “It’s the puppy-dog eyes, I swear. I think Safaa wants to be Mrs. Liam Payne.”

“Sh-shut up,” Liam mumbled, sliding down the headboard and drawing the covers further up his torso. Zayn chuckled so that the computer on his lap shook up and down.

“I’ve never met someone so bad at taking compliments.”

Liam ducked his head. “Puppy d-d-dog eyes?”

“Like straight out of a Disney movie,” Zayn confirmed. Liam snorted. Zayn smiled and knocked him with an elbow (Liam realized absently that over the course of the movie they’d relaxed into sitting arm-to-arm on the bed. Three cheers for personal growth).

Zayn took a bite of his pizza and considered. “Seriously, though, they really liked you. I bet your one of those people who everybody’s parents love, though.”

 _Not mine_ , Liam thought dismally. “W-wouldn’t know,” he admitted. He was cautious here, as he had been upon revealing to Zayn the reason for his lack of musical awareness. And, just as he had then, Zayn now turned to look at Liam with the upmost interest, like Liam was about to disclose something of incalculable importance. Which pressured Liam into continuing, “N-Niall’s my only f-f-friend.” The blush was now steadily creeping down his neck and Liam wished the bed would open and swallow him up.

“False,” Zayn countered. “Harry and Louis are most definitely your friends, and Danielle is obviously nursing a friend-crush on you the size of Texas.”

Liam looked up at Zayn through his eyelashes in a way that said, _you know what I mean_.

Zayn rolled his eyes. “Fine, I’ll bite. For a minute, let’s imagine that Niall is still your only friend. And Niall’s parents totally love you, am I right?”

Liam mulled that over. “Yeah.” This was the truth; Niall’s parents had always been rather fond of Liam (though Liam’d always suspected that it was more akin to the type of affection one might bestow upon a blind, three-legged dog at the local shelter than anything else).

“Well, then.” Zayn sounded very much like someone who’d just won the argument, and Liam just shot him an incredulous sidelong glance. Zayn refused to back down. “Dude, when it comes to evaluating friendship, quality -” he bent his left hand flat at the wrist and held it above his head, “—quantity -” he lowered his hand level with his chest. “From what I’ve seen, Niall’s worth like, two hundred don’t-worry-we’ll-always-keep-in-touch-on-Facebook-except-not-really high school friends.”

“D-did you have ma-any f-friends in grade school?” Liam asked, because he was still embarrassed about his unpopularity no matter what Zayn said and that put him in the mood to be contradictory.

One side of Zayn’s lip scrunched up in a displeasured sort of way. “I mean, I guess. But most of the people I went to high school with were douchebags, so…” Zayn made his quality versus quantity gesture again and shrugged. “Wish I’d been as tight with someone as you were with Niall.”

“N-Niall left me,” Liam said miserably, even though Zayn knew he knew it wasn’t Niall’s fault.

Zayn was quiet for minute. Only then did Liam realize that _The Princess Bride_ had already ended and the DVD menu was playing on loop.

“You only came out to live with Niall at the beginning of the summer,” Zayn said slowly, and Liam did not like the thoughtful pinch between his brows. “But you went to college somewhere else before that, right? God,” he chuckled, “I don’t even know where you’re from.”

Liam’s heart was making very loud _tha-rump_ sounds in his ears and suddenly he was too hot under the blankets. He wanted to get up and run away and was now painfully aware of the sensation of skin on skin where his arm was pressed against Zayn’s.

“’s okay, you don’t have to tell me,” Zayn said, which put a halt on Liam’s mounting panic. Liam nearly cricked his neck turning around to look at Zayn, because really? When did this seemingly endless patience… you know, end?

Zayn held Liam’s gaze steadily. “You don’t have to tell me,” he repeated. “I mean, I’m curious, obviously. But…”

 _But I don’t want you to freak out_ , Liam’s brain supplied dismally. Understandable. He was perpetually freaking out around Zayn.

“Hey, Liam,” Zayn recaptured his attention, “you’re worrying. Stop worrying about it.” He smiled reassuringly.

Liam bit his lip and nodded his acquiescence.

 

***

 

When Liam awoke, confusion immediately settled over him. First of all, because he was on a bed, not on a couch. This was not his couch in Niall’s apartment. Second of all, there was an arm thrown over his chest.

Liam was suddenly very awake and very hot. His eyes snapped open and he found himself practically nose-to-nose with a sleeping Zayn. Liam thought back to last night, and recalled a brief, drowsy argument during which Zayn refused to let Liam take the couch and vice versa. Ultimately, Liam had tried to get out of bed and transition to the sofa but was rather quickly and embarrassingly overpowered by Zayn, who had decided to compromise by letting them share the double bed. Liam had been too tired and too emotionally wrung-out to care. And now he was here, way too close to Zayn to not _want_. But Zayn did not _want_ him, and Liam was very dangerously close to feeling not okay again, so he shifted away. Zayn’s arm flopped down onto the bed and he moaned softly but did not awake.

Liam walked over to the window and back, not sure what to do with himself. Clearly…things had changed somewhat. Between him and Zayn. Friends. Who touched each other. Liam winced, extracting an uncomfortable innuendo from his own inner monologue. Okay, _not_ in the way that sounded. _Get it together, Liam._ Friends who did things like sit in bed and watch movies and fall asleep together. One half of Liam was blowing confetti, and the other was shriveling in on itself. He’d barely reached that point with Niall, could he handle such a relationship with Zayn, where things were already infinitely more complicated?

Liam sighed. Trusting people was confusing. He was starting to get a headache.

To distract himself from these particular troubles, Liam went over to the bathroom. He relieved himself quickly and gave himself a once-over in the mirror. There was some moderate bruising around the left side of his face, particularly on the forehead around where he’d been cut. Also a circular red indent on his neck where a snap from his hoody had dug in when he was pulled backwards. Liam then stripped off the shirt and pants Zayn had given him to get a progress report on the bruising situation (still looked about as bad as Liam expected).

Figuring he should probably take his leave as soon as Zayn arose, Liam set to folding Zayn’s clothing into a pile. He peeked his head out of the bathroom door and, seeing Zayn’s slumbering form still in bed, tiptoed out of the bathroom, boxer-clad, to retrieve his pile of clothes from beside the bed.

Which was when his phone decided to buzz very loudly and obnoxiously. Liam lunged for his pile of clothing and fumbled through his pants pockets, all the while _BZZZZ_. Liam saw the incoming call from Niall, denied it, and stood up with his clothes to return to the bathroom. He would deal with Niall at home. He was just at the door when a murmured “holy shit, dude” reached his ears. Liam whipped around to see Zayn sitting up in bed with wide eyes. In moments he had crossed the room to stand before a frozen Liam. Zayn restrained himself from touching, but circled Liam (he assumed) to scrutinize the bruises. Liam shrunk in on himself around the pile of clothes clutched to his chest and waited for Zayn to reappear in front of him.

When he did, Liam was not at all prepared for the look in Zayn’s eyes: hurt. And Liam had apparently put it there.

“You should have _told_ me if it was this bad.”

“I -” Liam was floundering. Protectiveness, especially directed towards _him_ , was such a foreign concept that between Zayn and Niall, Liam just didn’t know what to do with himself. So he tried to fix it with, “C-could b-be worse.”

Zayn didn’t look any less unhappy, but he also didn’t say anything else. It was all too reminiscent of Liam’s conversation with Niall that day he got shoved in the pool and he didn’t know what to make of that. Before he could even start trying to untangle it, Zayn said, “I can take you home when you’ve dressed, if you like. I have a text from Niall saying he got back a while ago. ‘s almost one.”

Liam nodded his agreement and slinked back into the bathroom to dress without looking in the mirror this time.

 

***

 

It didn’t take a genius to figure out what happened to Liam, and Niall was no idiot (Liam also suspected that even if Zayn didn’t outright _tell_ him via text, he dropped some pretty generous hints). So Liam hadn’t even deposited the groceries in their respective cabinets before Niall was in the kitchen fixing him with a hard stare.

The lecture blessedly only took less than a minute, the cursing and threatening Mean Landscaping Guy’s life took longer, and the hug took the longest. Liam was sincerely okay with the way things unfolded.

Liam didn’t spend any of his day off baking, but he did spend it curled up on the couch with Niall, book and cup of tea in hand. He was seated sideways so his back was propped up against the armrest and his feet were folded across Niall’s lap. Niall’s hand rubbed across his ankles absently while he watched the game on low volume and consumed an entire back of Lays chips.

“Louis’s gonna swing by ‘round ten if you decide you want to come to Dani’s,” Niall said over dinner. “I understand if you want to stay home, though.”

Liam was conflicted. On the one hand, he very much did not want to be surrounded by people. But on the other, he very much did not want to be alone. It was just a matter of which one he desired _less_ (it was about neck-and-neck right now). Liam thanked Niall for his understanding and retreated into the bathroom to take a shower. He peeled his clothes off with great caution and had just dropped his pants to the floor when he heard a buzz. Curious, Liam reached into the pocket of his discarded trousers and withdrew his phone.

Good thing the shower was already spitting water, Liam thought, otherwise Niall would have heard the girlish squeak he made before clamping a palm over his gaping mouth. No, it definitely couldn’t be. Why now? Why would she… The ten or fifteen seconds before his phone finally stopped buzzing seemed to dilate into an eternity. Liam simply stared vacantly at the screen, shocked and bewildered, trapped inside his own head.

 _What are you doing_ , answer it _!_

_But…but it’s been a month, and she hasn’t called._

_She’s calling_ now. _This is what you’ve been waiting for, isn’t it? She misses you, she wants you back!_

_After a month’s deliberation?_

_You fucking idiot…_

_How could I even talk to her, if I did answer? What if she hears what I sound like, and…and remembers why she didn’t…why she didn’t—_

The phone went still and silent in his hand.

Liam, hardly aware of himself, placed the device on the counter and stepped in the shower. He nearly collapsed on the tiles and hunched against the spray, ducking his head into his knees. Oh god. Oh god…

 

***

 

After the anxiety-inducing bathroom incident, Can’t Be Alone Right Now Liam won over, and he decided to accompany Niall to the party. If he stayed alone in the apartment, Liam knew he would break down and return that call, which he knew was, logically, an abso-fucking-lutely terrible idea. Liam knew it was a terrible idea because he couldn’t even bring himself to tell Niall about the received call. But that didn’t mean that his fingers weren’t still itching to dial her back. Niall looked something like relieved when Liam announced his plans, like he, too, had been nervous about Liam staying home alone in the apartment.

Liam was greeted with loud whoops of excitement from Harry and Louis when he stepped outside after Niall. Liam grinned and rubbed the back of his neck shyly when Harry pumped a fist through the sunroof and Louis actually whistled. He was still baffled as to why they were so thrilled about him attending this event when they _must_ know what a wet blanket he would be the entire time (but Liam could admit that their enthusiasm—misplaced as it might be—was still flattering).

“Yes, yes, we’re all very excited Liam is coming,” Niall said with fake exasperation. “Rein it in, gentlemen.” He opened the door and allowed Liam to slide into the backseat before him.

“Aw, Nialler, we’re just as happy to see you.” Louis punctuated his point by grabbing both sides of Niall’s face and pulling him forward to plant a very wet, very sloppy kiss on his forehead. Niall batted him away, dislodging the sunglasses perched atop Louis’s forehead. Louis stuck his tongue out and muttered something about Niall not appreciating his love.

Harry poked his face around the headrest to look at Liam. “All right then, Li?” He’d been especially conscientious about checking in with Liam since the last Incident. Liam could only imagine if Harry found out about last night, and resolved never to tell him.

“Y-yeah,” Liam lied breathlessly, wondering whether there was still time to jump ship.

“Liam, I officially apologize in advance for however I might make an ass of myself tonight,” said Louis seriously (Liam contemplated the feasibility of leaping out the window).

Niall snorted. “’Might.’”

“And we apologize on his behalf as well, for however he _does_ make an ass of himself tonight,” Harry added. Liam was about to voice some concern about Louis being the one currently pulling away from the curb but Harry hurried on, “Don’t worry, I’m driving home. Sober as a judge.” 

Liam didn’t bother to point out the rank, sour aroma of marijuana that wafted back to his nose with a gust of air from the sunroof.

 

***

 

Liam checked his watch for the first time in…about thirty seconds, and bounced his leg up and down. They had to go home sooner or later, right? He wouldn’t have to stay in this apartment forever. The sun would come up in less than seven hours. In nine hours he would have the excuse that he needed to go to work, so. Eventually it would all be over.

He was currently parked on the couch surrounded by all strangers except for Harry, Niall having been accosted by some girl almost the moment they walked in the door and Louis being immediately engulfed by the exuberant crowd. The apartment was cramped and smoky, filled with about three dozen people, thick with the stench of sweaty bodies, burning weed, and spilt alcohol.

When Dani opened the door for them, she practically burst with excitement. Hugs and gifts were exchanged, and for a moment Liam panicked with the realization that he had not purchased a present. Danielle, in all her wonderfulness, simply pulled him in for a hug and said into his ear, “Just glad you’re here.”

She’d proceeded to find Liam a spot in the corner on the couch and made brief introductions to the other guests in his general area. There was Eleanor (who worked as a life guard at the park and shot a not-so-subtle look of resentment at the retreating figures of Niall and his lady friend), Josh (Danielle’s roommate who was shooting a not-so-subtle “fuck me” look at Eleanor), and Aiden (who was so far gone by the time Liam arrived that Danielle did not even bother with an introduction; Liam only learned his name when a concerned Harry told him around eleven that he should really, really go home to bed, please—he did not).

Harry was currently engaged in quiet conversation Perrie, who had popped over and was now sitting on the arm of his chair (she even shot a friendly smile at Liam, who was too thoroughly mortified by their last encounter to respond with anything other than a pathetic little wave). Every so often throughout the night, Harry had looked over to check in with Liam, see if he could get him more cake, if he needed to go home. But every time Liam glimpsed Niall through the crowd, or heard Louis’s loud peals of laughter, he resigned himself to stick it out. So he would smile at Harry or excuse himself to use the restroom and keep checking his watch.

The announcement of “Zayn!” startled Liam into looking up from his knees and he did indeed see Zayn, accompanied by a boy he did not know, entering the apartment. Zayn wrapped the birthday girl in a hug and followed her into the kitchen to deposit what looked like more alcohol on the counter. Liam craned his neck but Zayn was quickly obscured by the crowd. He was just mustering up the courage to go say hello when Louis flopped down beside him and swung an arm over his shoulder, too drunk to notice Liam’s rather obvious flinch.

“ _Leeyum_ ,” Louis drawled, undeterred when Liam drew back with a wrinkled nose. “How are you doing, man?”

Liam was distracted from answering when he noticed what Louis was holding in the hand not caressing his shoulder.

“Wh-what is th-th-that?” Liam tried unsuccessfully to shrug off Louis’s petting hand.

“What, this?” Louis asked unnecessarily, holding the turtle up under Liam’s nose. “This, my good sir, is a turtle.”

“Thanks,” Liam responded, a bit more snarky than usual because he knew Louis was too intoxicated to recognize the bite in his words.

“His name is Hector,” Josh supplied lamely from across the table.

“Josh, you ever get that thing stoned?” Liam looked up at the newcomer to find that it was Zayn’s friend, holding a beer and looking amused. “Like, with you constantly lighting up, that turtle’s got to be a massive stoner.”

Josh gave the question a moment’s thought. “We’ve never smoked with the _intention_ of getting the turtle high,” he mused. “But have you met Eleanor’s cat? Literally _follows_ the bong around the room. That thing’s a bigger stoner than Harry.”

“Not possible,” Perrie piped up and Harry gave the group a cheeky grin. Liam hadn’t even known they were listening. As if the conversation had only just reminded him, Josh immediately pulled out a pipe and a plastic baggy. Liam carefully passed the bowl to Louis when it came round to him and tried not to cough or wrinkle his nose.

“Don’t want to try?” Louis prompted, holding it under Liam’s nose temptingly. Liam shook his head and pushed Lou’s hand out of the way.

“That’s peer pressure!” Eleanor accused, making an approximation of a disgruntled expression at Louis on Liam’s behalf. Louis flicked her on the forehead. She snatched away his sunglasses in retaliation. Louis put up minimal resistance in favor of dragging in a long breath on the pipe. He held the smoke in for a few ticks and then ejected it through his nostrils before turning to Liam again.

“I like you, Liam,” he said, probably aiming for serious (he missed it by a long shot, and arrived at fulsome instead). “I just want you to be happy. Are you happy, _Leeyum_?”

Liam’s mouth popped open and Louis was studying him with such drunken intent that his fingers twitched nervously.

The moment was broken when Eleanor uttered a loud shriek. She was batting playfully at Zayn’s friend, who had apparently taken the liberty of trying on Louis’s sunglasses without permission.

“He stole my sunglasses!” Eleanor tattled to a totally indifferent Harry.

“Are those women’s sunglasses?” Josh put in. “Ant is a cross dresser!” This announcement was accompanied by a theatrical wave of his arm, effectively dousing Aiden’s trousers with beer. Aiden took no notice. Josh had the grace to wince apologetically anyway and put down the beer.

“They look better on me,” Ant insisted, crossing his arms.

“They don’t look _bad_ ,” Josh allowed.

“I _want_ them back,” Eleanor said petulantly. She groped drunkenly at Ant’s face but he just waved her off in a _go the hell away_ sort of gesture.

“Josh, your friend is being mean to me,” Eleanor whined, throwing herself into Josh’s lap and knocking the lighter he was poised to use out of his hand.

“Oi!” Josh exclaimed indignantly, giving Eleanor a look that was equal parts incredulous and disgusted. “Gerroff me.” Eleanor just settled herself more comfortably on top of him and shrugged unconcernedly. Josh seemed to get over his irritation pretty quickly and adjusted her on his lap, one hand conveniently coming to rest on the curve of her ass.

Okay, it was time for Liam to go—at least to a different area of the apartment. He extricated himself from the couch and carefully picked his way through bodies and furniture towards the kitchen. A chorus of laughter resounded behind him but he did not look back to see the source of amusement. God, maybe this had been a bad idea. Maybe he should have stayed home. He couldn’t even manage to have fun at a party like a normal person.

“Liam!”

Danielle was a lot drunker than she’d been when she put Liam on the couch and she was now surrounded by an intimidating pack of female friends. She waved him over and Liam shyly approached the throng of giggling girls. He cast around for someone – _anyone_ – that he knew to save him from this, but neither Zayn nor Niall was in sight.

“Guys, this is Liam. We work together.” More giggles. “Liam, do you want a drink?”

Liam tried to decline but was met with several moans and _oh, come on_ ’s.

“Look, Liam, I don’t want to pressure you into anything,” Danielle said (which seemed to Liam like the kind of thing that could _only_ preface a situation where he was going to be pressured into something), “but Harry’s driving you home, right? And we’re all friends here, if you want to let loose a little. Safe space.”

There were too many flaws in that statement for Liam to even try to explain to a drunk person. He shook his head again and reached for his phone, hoping to ease the transition out of this interaction by feigning some vitally important text conversation…

When he remembered exactly _why_ he’d decided to leave his phone at home for the evening, and Liam suddenly felt sick.

“Liam, are you okay?” Danielle was fixing him with a perturbed look.

“I—y-yeah. Uh, do y-you…do you m-mind if. If I d-do have a d-d-drink?”

Danielle looked about as taken aback at the question as Liam felt. The words had spilled out of his mouth before he’d even realized what he was asking. Even more shocking was the realization that he didn’t want to take them back. He just…it was all too much right now, and maybe this would help? People did that, right? Drink to forget their troubles? Liam didn’t have much experience with the phenomenon, but this was the general impression he’d gotten from health classes and television.

“Oh—yeah. Yeah, of course. What would you like?” Danielle was bubbling with energy again, and her girlfriends were wearing identical lipstick smiles.

“Uh…” Right, Liam was supposed to know this shit. He was in college. He was supposed to have preferences on this type of thing. Couldn’t get anything right, could he? Not even this _one, god-damn, mother-fucking THING._

Liam bit his lip and swallowed a whimper. “Anything,” he replied desperately.

 

***

 

Liam loved vodka. _Loved_ vodka. Vod-ka. _Vaaahhhhd_. _Kuuuhhh_. Hah. That was funny sounding, wasn’t it? Vodka. Loved it. _If you love it so much, why don’t you marry it?_ Maybe he would, Liam thought defiantly. Maybe he would.

Wait, was he saying all this aloud? Liam cast a paranoid glance around at the group, but no one was paying him special attention. That had to mean he was safe. At least, he didn’t think anyone was paying much attention to him. Liam checked again. It was rather difficult to focus – whereas Liam usually felt he had a good grasp on his general surroundings, now everything had gone fuzzy and especially bright around the edges, and he could only zero in on one thing at a time, everything else melting in the periphery. Also, his lips felt numb. He kept reaching up to rub a the pad of a finger across them to make sure they were still there.

Liam noted absently that he was probably going to be hung over for the first time on a work day. Huh. (Not shockingly, he couldn’t quite bring himself to care.)

“You still good, Li?”

Liam focused all his attention on nodding back at Danielle, who smiled. Wow, she had such nice eyebrows. So symmetrical. How had he never noticed before? “Okay, no more for you,” she was laughing, and oh, Liam had definitely said that aloud.

“Liam?”

Liam whipped around at the sound of Zayn’s voice and the world tilted insanely. He gripped the counter for support and actually laughed at himself. Too fast, Liam, too fast. Careful. Zayn had this look on his face like he thought Liam might have actually lost his marbles, so Liam thought maybe he should say something at least _marginally_ sane to reassure him. As nonchalantly as possible, he managed, “Hello, Zayn.”

One corner of Zayn’s mouth tugged up in a tentative smile. “Are you drunk?”

“As a skunk,” Liam confirmed happily. “So drunk. _Soooo_ drunk, Zayn.”

Zayn’s eyebrows raised and he looked over Liam’s shoulder at Danielle. “Did you get Liam drunk?” he accused.

Danielle held up her hands to reject the blame. “He wanted to. And, honestly? The boy’s had like, five drinks, total. Maybe six.”

“I did want to,” Liam put in, because it wasn’t really fair of Zayn to condemn Dani for something Liam had explicitly requested.

Zayn looked back to Liam with a furrowed brow. “Come on,” he instructed, and led Liam out of the kitchen by his hand. Liam stumbled down the hallway after him and somehow ended up sitting on what he assumed was Danielle’s bed facing Zayn. He refused to let go of Zayn’s hand, though, because Liam was stupid drunk and he just _wanted to hold Zayn’s hand_ , dammit.

“Hi,” Liam greeted to fill the silence, because he felt like he should even though it was Zayn’s idea to come in here. Zayn had graciously filled enough silences for him over the past few weeks.

“Hi,” Zayn returned. But it looked to Liam like Zayn really wanted to say something else. Liam voiced this supposition aloud. Zayn nodded in agreement and Liam inwardly cheered at his successful intuition. “Is this the first time you’ve ever been drunk?” Zayn continued.

“Yessir,” said Liam. Then giggled. He hadn’t meant to be that formal. “Sorry for giggling,” Liam immediately apologized when he realized what he’d done.

Zayn was apparently thrown by that change of subject. “Why?”

“Because men don’t giggle,” Liam informed him. “Don’t you know? So, I can’t giggle, ‘cause that would further emasculate myself, on top of…” Realization suddenly struck Liam like a wrecking ball. “Oh my god, Zayn! Emasculate. _Emasculate_. Do you _hear_ me right now?” He looked jubilantly at Zayn. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d spoken this much without so much as a single stumble. Single stumble. Single stumble single stumble si—

“Yeah, you sound good,” Zayn praised, but his tone of voice didn’t match the smile hitched on his face. He sounded distressed. Liam tried and failed to care. Just listen to him _talk_ , for fuck’s sake. He flopped back happily on the bed, careful not to let go of Zayn’s hand for a single second.

“Too bad I can’t be drunk all the time,” he lamented to the ceiling.

Zayn was quiet for along minute. Liam waited patiently for him to pick up the conversation again.

“Who told you that? About you giggling, I mean.”

Liam blinked up at him in surprise. “My dad,” he said. In the spirit of full disclosure, he continued, “but to be honest, that was just one in a laundry list of things my dad hated about me. So, you know, no biggie.”

This admission did not have the desired effect, Liam realized, when Zayn looked even more disconcerted than before. Liam sat up and squeezed Zayn’s hand reassuringly. “Sorry,” he blurted.

“What?”

“I don’t know,” said Liam honestly. “You just looked sad. So, sorry. I didn’t mean to.”

Zayn coughed out a laugh here, and that was when Liam knew he had really lost all capability of following this bizarre conversation.

“There you go: apologizing for shit that’s not your fault. Don’t even know what you’re apologizing _for_.” Zayn looked fond but still kind of upset and Liam snorted.

“’s totally my fault,” he asserted. When Zayn looked ready to rebut him, he plowed on, “I mean, not even my own parents liked me, Zayn. That’s got to…that’s got to indicate some serious character flaws.” Damn, Liam was _killing_ this conversation and he couldn’t even enjoy it because he suddenly was fighting the impulse to burst into tears. He didn’t want to think about his parents (wasn’t that the whole reason for indulging in this ridiculousness anyway? Liam was having difficulty remembering).

Suddenly Zayn’s hand was on his cheek and when did that happen? Not that Liam was complaining. He leaned into the touch.

“ _I_ like you, Liam.”

“Why?” Liam hadn’t meant to voice this question, but he really needed to know. He’d been wondering for like, a month now, and he would never be bold enough to ask sober. Seize the moment or something, right?

Zayn audibly exhaled and let his hand drop away from Liam’s face. Disappointment welled in Liam’s stomach before he realized Zayn was reaching out for a pen and notebook on Dani’s bedside table. He tore out a piece of paper and started scribbling on it furiously. Liam attempted to look (not like he could fix his eyes to read a single word of it anyway) but Zayn gently shoved him back into a lying position on the bed.

“Hey, I’m injured!” Liam complained, but didn’t put up much of a fight.

A few moments later, Zayn tapped Liam to sit up again. Liam watched him fold up the piece of paper and slip it into the pocket of his button-up shirt.

“I’m not sure if you’re even gonna remember this conversation tomorrow, but that—“ Zayn tapped the paper against Liam’s chest with the tip of his pen “—is something I want you to remember. So. Don’t touch it until tomorrow, okay?”

Liam was about to agree when Harry burst in the door. He looked like a man on a mission.

“Someone told me Liam got drunk,” he said curtly. Harry’s eyes came to rest on Liam, who tried sloppily for a smile. Harry folded his arms and directed his next question exclusively to Zayn. “Is he okay?”

Zayn rubbed a hand over his face and shook a cigarette out of its pack. “Yeah, fine. Look, I’m just going to find Ant; see if he’s ready to go.” He jerked a thumb at Liam. “He’ll be okay with you?”

“Yeah, yeah of course.” Harry strode over and ran his fingers through Liam’s hair. What was with everyone and touching him tonight? Whatever. Liam was too drunk to mind.

“Someone told me Liam got drunk!” This time it was Louis bursting in the door, looking much more excited about the news than his sober counterpart.

“Yes, Lou,” Harry replied patiently. “We’re heading out soon. Why don’t you go retrieve Niall.”

“I wanted to see drunk Liam,” Louis whined but followed Harry’s instruction anyway. He threw one more gleefully curious look at Liam before vanishing.

“Come on, Li. Time for home.” Harry helped hoist Liam off the bed, who swayed dangerously and groped for his friend’s shoulder.

“I feel so nice right now, Harry,” Liam articulated drowsily, leaning heavily on Harry’s side.

“Probably not so in the morning,” Harry promised wearily. “And I thought you would be the one nursing Niall through _his_ hangover.”

Liam snickered to himself. He liked Harry. He liked Zayn, too. Wait—Zayn.

But Liam looked around to bid Zayn farewell only to discover that the other boy had already gone.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So...thoughts? 
> 
> I'm kind of nervous about this, since so many people were up in arms about Liam being pressured into going to the party in the first place. But drunk Liam...he was just too much fun to write. I couldn't resist. Also for plot development...so tell me, believable? Entertaining? Ridiculous? *Peers through fingers anxiously*
> 
> Also, I'm approaching the end of the stuff that I've already gotten written out, so I apologize if updates in future are a bit further apart. But I'll definitely be continuing to post (my infinitely wonderful beta teamfreeawesome would allow me to do nothing less), and I just wanted to say thanks for all the comments and support! I'm not gonna lie, in addition to searching for a beta, part of my motive for posting the first chapter was to gauge interest, to see if anyone would actually want to read this. So thanks for your response; without you guys providing feedback this story definitely would have ended a few thousand words ago. So...yeah. You guys are just really wonderful :)


	5. Part 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long! Also, warning that this has not been fully beta-ed. So, mistakes. Mistakes might be more frequent than usual. *profuse apologies*.

“Nobody talk. Nobody move. Nobody _breathe_ , or I will castrate you.”

“’s your own damn fault you got so fucking plastered, Nialler,” Harry reminded him. He flicked a paper football at Louis, whose fingers were held in goal post position even though his head was resting in the crook of an elbow. “Got one,” Harry announced lightly as the football soared through Louis’s fingers. Louis grunted indifferently. Harry pouted. “You people are no fun.”

“Sorry I can’t summon the energy to entertain you while it feels like someone is trying to drill through my left eyeball,” came Louis’s muffled retort.

“ _Shhh_!” Niall hushed.

Liam couldn’t help but agree; his own head was still abuzz from leaf blowing the pool deck earlier this morning. They’d hung a spare uniform t-shirt over the small window for optimum darkness.

Harry demonstrated how much sympathy he harbored for Niall by folding up another football and flicking it at his face. Niall was too slow to dodge the projectile and caught it with his nose.

“Haz, why don’t you go make yourself useful and sweep something up for us?” Louis suggested, since it looked like Niall might actually make good on his promise to castrate Harry (really, Louis had the second-most to lose in that situation, the still-slightly-drunk part of Liam’s brain joked; the hung-over part of Liam groaned).

Harry, apparently recognizing the imminent danger to his person, made himself scarce for the rest of the day. Liam spent the majority of his working hours curled up on the attic floor, wishing for quick death. Last night was a blur. He vaguely recalled Danielle and her friends cheering him on as he took the first shots of his life, and then hanging out somewhere for Zayn for a while (he hoped to god he hadn’t made too much of an ass of himself, but morale was low) before Harry dragged him home and engaged in a brief struggle to get both Liam and Niall into bed (Liam definitely owed Harry cookies now, and told him so at lunch, which seemed to assuage some of Harry’s irritation towards the rest of them). Getting ready for work this morning had been absolutely miserable; he’d shucked his clothes from the previous night without even opening his eyes and gotten dressed in the dark. Honestly, it was a minor miracle that nothing was inside out or backwards right now.

“Where’s Zayn today?” Niall asked the room at large later that afternoon.

“Left for a family vacation this morning,” Harry said. “Going to…North Carolina? I don’t know. Somewhere with a beach. Said he’d be back next week.”

Niall hummed in response. “Good thing. Wouldn’t want a surprise visit from Malik today.”

“I don’t know,” Louis mused. “If I got fired, I could go home and sleep on the couch instead of this damned floor.”

“True.”

Liam frowned in disappointment. Zayn would be back in a week, but Liam would certainly miss him while he was gone. Maybe Liam could text him. Was that weird? No, surely not. Zayn had said they were friends. And Niall had Zayn’s number; Liam could get it from him. He asked to see Niall’s phone.

“Why?” Niall asked without opening his eyes.

Liam swallowed. “I—I w-wanted to get Z-Zayn’s number.”

“You don’t have Zayn’s number?” Louis piped up, and Liam saw Harry looking at him now too.

“No?” Liam wasn’t sure why this was worthy of interest. “W-why?”

Harry just shrugged. “Lately you guys have just been like this.” He crossed the fore- and middle finger of one hand.

Liam blushed and took Niall’s phone without another word. By the time he’d finished copying Zayn’s information, the others had gotten over him and were discussing something else. Still, Liam avoided further scrutiny by waiting to text Zayn until he and Niall were home. He typed out several messages, backspaced them, and finally settled on:

_To Zayn: Hey Zayn, it’s Liam. Just wanted to say thanks for looking out for me last night, sorry if I was being annoying. I don’t really drink…if that wasn’t obvious haha._

With a trembling finger, Liam sent the text off, and immediately cringed. Did that sound stupid? He hastily typed out:

_To Zayn: Got your number from Niall, sorry if that’s creepy._

Liam deliberately put his phone down then and went to prepare himself tea so that he wouldn’t drive himself insane waiting for a reply. Still, when he heard the phone buzz against the coffee table, he nearly dropped the teapot in his haste to go check it.

_From Zayn: haha no its not creepy. honestly not sure why we didnt exchange #s before now. and dude dont even worry about it, ant got sick all over my shoes on the way to the car, so talking to u was definitely the highlight of my night_

Liam couldn’t fight the dopey smile that took over his face or the bubble of warmth in his chest. Play it cool, Liam. Don’t blow this.

_To Zayn: Okay I feel a bit better now haha. Sorry about that, though._

_From Zayn: eh its no big. ant and i go way back, he’ll make it up 2 me sometime_

Liam didn’t really have anything to say in response to that, but he desperately did not want the conversation to end so quickly. He tapped nervously against the screen for a few minutes and then almost fainted with relief when Zayn came through with another message.

_From Zayn: feeling any better today?_

_To Zayn: Massively hung-over,_ Liam typed, even though he knew it was not what Zayn was referring to. Then he added, _but better with. You know. The other stuff._

_From Zayn: good. i mean about the other stuff, not the hangover lol. i bet work today was fuuuun_

_To Zayn: Oh, yeah. Everyone was just a bundle of sunshine. My life was much easier when I could tune them all out with your music._

Liam sent it off without thinking and then promptly clapped a hand over his eyes. Oh no. Oh no no no no no. Why would he bring that up? Just when he and Zayn were getting on so well. _Great fuck up, Liam, you really_ —

The phone buzzed and Liam literally peeled his fingers away one by one to look at the message.

_From Zayn: yeah i feel u. currently in the car with 3 sisters on way to the beach_

Liam breathed a sigh of relief. Zayn really had forgiven him.

He proceeded to text Zayn throughout the rest of the week. Truth be told, Liam found texting was much easier than communicating face-to-face with Zayn. For one thing, Liam’s stutter was a nonissue, which made smooth conversation about twelve thousand times easier. For another, Zayn’s absurdly pretty face wasn’t staring back at his own, so Liam’s heart rate could maintain its normal pace. Despite the good-natured teasing Liam endured from the others whenever he was caught texting Zayn during the workday, he was pretty sure getting the number from Niall was the best decision he’d made in a long time.

It wasn’t until almost a week after Zayn had left that Liam accidentally mucked things up again (because apparently that’s what he did best). Over the past several days, Liam’s text conversation with Zayn had been almost been a sufficient distraction to completely forget the call from his mother (almost). Every time he flipped his phone open, the missed call just _there_ , but Liam had been dealing with that by rereading messages from Zayn and shooting off his reply.

Niall was out on a date with Andrea, the girl from Danielle’s party, when the second call came. Liam was busy in the kitchen preparing meatloaf (Niall would undoubtedly consume his leftovers upon returning from his own dinner date) when he heard the phone. Liam initially assumed the buzzing signaled a new message from Zayn, and was therefore confused when the noise persisted. Frowning, Liam went over to check who it was, just in case Niall was calling with some emergency.

Liam wasn’t proud of it, but when he read the caller ID, he literally flung his phone back onto the couch as if it had scalded him. He was finding it extremely difficult to breathe and sunk to his knees. She hadn’t given up on him after the first unreturned call. Maybe…

No. No, she _had_ given up on him. A long time ago. Hadn’t she?

Perhaps she’d tried her best, though, another part of him reasoned. Should he give her a chance to explain? What if she convinced him to come back home? What then? He had a life here now, but this was his family. His _mother_ —

The phone stopped and a sob escaped him.

Later, Liam would be unable to explain properly even to himself what possessed him to do such a thing, but somewhere amidst the anguish, his stupid brain decided the best course of action would be to call Zayn (because his life was a travesty). Liam would remember the fleeting thought that he couldn’t call Niall because he was on a date (somehow the excuse that Zayn was _out of the state_ seemed to hold no relevance whatsoever) and next thing he knew Liam was holding his breath pressing ‘call.’ Three rings went by and in that ten seconds, Liam almost pushed the 'end' button a dozen times. Unfortunately, his fingers seemed to be frozen in their grip around the phone. 

“Hey, Liam! What’s up?”

Zayn’s cheerful salutation dislodged something in Liam’s throat and suddenly there were tears, tears everywhere. Which was not super convenient since he was trying to talk on the phone. He opened his mouth to try but some—some weird, ugly noise that Liam could not classify (except that it was definitely _not_ speech) came out instead.

“Liam? Are you okay?”

Liam heard some shuffling and the closing of a door on the other end.

“Um?” It was wobbly and had an awkward upward inflection, but it was definitely a word, and that was a step in the right direction. On the other hand, Liam’s breath was still erratic and horrible shudders were still running through him so he couldn’t get himself off the floor. What even was going on right now?

“ _Liam_ ,” Zayn’s voice was strong and steady, everything Liam was _not_ right now, and Liam clutched more tightly phone. A lifeline. “Liam, whatever it is, you are going to be fine, okay? It’s all going to be fine. Can you take a deep breath?”

With a concerted effort, Liam did so.

“Good. Where are you?”

“F-f-f-floor.” Liam cringed. That was probably not what he meant. “H-home,” he amended.

“The floor? Are you hurt? Is Niall there?” Zayn was suddenly a lot more urgent and Liam became aware of how that must have sounded.

“N-not h-h-hurt. N-Niall’s out.”

“Okay…okay.” Zayn’s relief was palpable. “Can you stand up? Get somewhere…not on the floor?”

Liam made a noncommittal noise and dragged himself onto the couch, pulling a blanket on top of himself as he went. He mumbled something into the pillows.

“Better?”

“Mmhmm.” The sound of Zayn’s voice was strangely relaxing, even though it was hollow and tinny over the phone. Comfortably familiar.

“So, you wanna tell me why you’re so upset?”

Aaaannddd comfort stripped away. Liam’s frame was wracked with renewed shudders. He tucked the blanket under his chin. “M-my m-m-mom…c-called,” he sniffled (and if this wasn’t the most pitiful thing he’d ever done, Liam was a kumquat). “S-sorry. I j-just—just didn’t kn-kn-know what—wh-what else to…”

“Hey, Liam. You know you can call me whenever, yeah? If you’re hurt, or scared, or bored, or _whatever_ , and it’s fine.” Zayn waited to let this affirmation sink in before continuing. “So your mom called. Did you talk to her?”

Liam shook his head. Then, remembering Zayn couldn’t see him, “N-no. S-s-scared.”

“Okay, that’s okay. Why were you scared?”

Suddenly, Liam wondered what he had divulged about his parents at Dani’s party last week. He recalled them briefly entering into the conversation, but the context and details of that exchange were so convoluted in his memory that there was very little he could say for sure. Deciding it was kind of a moot point now and he should just rip off the band-aid, “My…my d-dad kick—kicked m-me out. Niall…Niall d-doesn’t know, so p-please.”

“Mum’s the word,” Zayn promised. A pause. “I’m guessing your mom was…unsupportive?”

Liam gave this muffled kind-of-laugh into the phone. That was certainly one way of putting it. “Y-yeah.”

Zayn blew a breath into the receiver. “Do you…do you want to tell me about what happened? Before you left home, I mean. It’s okay if you don’t, but. I’m just not sure what to say to reassure you since I don’t have the full story, you know? I can just stay on the line and keep you company, too, if that’s what you want.”

Liam wanted to tear his hair out. Why did Zayn have to be so fucking perfect all the time, especially when Liam wanted nothing more than shed his own skin because being Liam Payne was the furthest thing in the world from perfect. Too shy. Too needy. Too uncoordinated (physically and verbally). Too _gay_.

Zayn was waiting patiently on the other end. This was it. Admitting aloud, for the first time, what a failure he was. Why he was such a thorough, genuine fuck up that not even the people who brought him into this world could stand his presence. Would Zayn regret extending the hand of friendship to him once he found out? But…but didn’t he owe it to Zayn to let him know who he was spending time with?

“I—I w-want to te-ell y-y-you. But.” Liam took a long, quavering breath. “I’m just af-f-fraid…” Afraid you won’t look at me the same. Afraid you’ll realize what a mistake this all has been. Afraid you’ll hate me.

Liam wasn’t expecting much in response to his fragmented thought, perhaps some hollow reassurance and a hurried excuse to get off the line. But Zayn just said, “I know, Liam. I know.”

Which may or may not have set Liam off crying again.

He was trying to be discreet about it, but Zayn must have heard or otherwise suspected, because instead of waiting for an answer, he started to sing. Kind of quietly into the phone, kind of like he didn’t want anyone in the world but Liam to hear him. Liam tried to force the hitched breaths and sniffles into submission if only to hear Zayn better. This was only the second time he’d been able to listen to Zayn singing (he liked it better this time) but it was the same song, which Liam now recognized as "Time."

“ _Home, home again. I like to be here when I can_. _When I come home cold and tired_ , _it’s good to warm my bones beside the fire.”_

Liam sank deeper into the couch pillows and curled up tighter. It wasn’t until Zayn cut off in the middle of the last verse to ask, “Liam, are you humming?” that Liam realized he was. The sound caught in his throat, and he couldn’t respond. “No—shit, I didn’t mean ‘stop.’ It. It was kind of nice.”

Liam wasn’t sure what to do with that, so he stuffed his nose into the pillow and waited silently.

Then, “Do you remember at the party, when you asked me why I like you?”

Liam vaguely recalled something of the sort and replied accordingly, a little nervous as to where this was going.

“Well, did you read the paper I gave you?”

Paper? Oh, paper! Liam scrambled around the room, searching for the dirty shirt and shorts he’d discarded the morning after, completely forgotten. When he found them, he jammed in fist into the pocket and retrieved a crumpled, folded piece of torn loose leaf. He straightened it out.

_I O U 1 explanation_

_Reasons I like Liam Payne_

Liam frowned, and was about to ask what the hell that meant, when Zayn started to list, “First, because I think you actually might defend Niall Horan to the death. Totally serious. Do you remember the first time we actually had a conversation, and I was talking shit about him? And it was so obvious that you were like, _terrified_ of me, but you shut me down anyway. I just thought that was really cool, and I really admired you for that.”

Liam was absolutely stunned, and was spared the responsibility of coming up with some response because Zayn continued, “Also because instead of trying to solve your problems by beating the shit out of them, you give them cookies. I think if everyone did things your way, the world would be a much better place.”

Liam pinched the bridge of his nose because _no_ , he wasn’t going to cry again, not over this.

“You also try harder at your job than any of the rest of us, which is saying something because you could literally do jack-shit and none of the customers or managers would notice. You’re always such a good sport when Louis kicks your ass in card games, and you listen to Harry talk about his books for _ever_ , and you deal with me even though I lose my shit way too easy and I know it—I scare you sometimes.

“And…and you just _light up_ whenever someone does the smallest nice thing for you, like you don’t even think you deserve it or something. Which is too bad, because you do. Liam. You’re wonderful.”

Liam’s brain was in overdrive. Zayn thought he was wonderful. _Wonderful_. What even…how…?

"I actually was going to write the list out for you last week, but I was honestly worried that you'd, like, slide off the bed or fall asleep or something while I was working on it." Zayn chuckled and Liam felt his lips pulling up in a reluctant smile. "Also, I figured it might be better to at least say out loud. Thought I owed you at least that much." Zayn exhaled, “I like you, Liam. I really, _really_ like you.”

Liam’s breath hitched. “I l-like you, t-t-too.”

 

***

 

The next morning, Liam awoke with a stiff neck. He’d fallen asleep in an awkward position against the pillow so that he could maintain his hold on the phone. Not much had been exchanged in the way of words after Zayn’s List, and the line was instead filled with Zayn’s quiet a capella of various songs Liam remembered mentioning during the week he’d enjoyed the use of Zayn’s iPod. Liam occasionally chimed in with his own tentative humming, but ultimately dozed off. As he sat up now, he realized that Niall must have removed both his shoes from his feet and the phone from the pillow upon returning home.

Speaking of Niall, the blonde boy chose that moment to emerge from the kitchen, holding a pair of spoons and bowls. His expression was tentative, bordering on concern. Which made Liam concerned. 

Niall put a bowl of oatmeal on Liam’s lap and handed him a spoon. “Hey.”

“H-hi. How was…” Liam gestured to Niall’s general person, hoping to indicate his date with Andrea.

“Was alright,” Niall allowed. He sat down opposite Liam and did not touch his oatmeal. His stillness was still more concerning. Liam froze in the act of bringing a spoonful to his lips.

“Wh-what?”

Niall pointed at his face and Liam’s confusion deepened. Was something on his face? He hadn’t even touched the oatmeal yet—

“You’ve been crying,” Niall accused, and Liam was absolutely perplexed as to how he could have known that. The tear tracks on his cheeks had long since dried.

“Saw when I came in last night,” Niall explained, looking kind of ashamed, like he thought maybe he shouldn't have invaded Liam's privacy like that.

“Oh.” Liam touched his fingers to his face.

“Yeah. I thought we talked about this.” Niall had on his best Serious Face. “Liam, if something is bothering you, you need to _tell someone_ —“

“I _d-did_.”

Niall opened his mouth to rebuke but then snapped it shut again. He looked at Liam with nothing short of astonishment. “What?” he finally said.

Liam exhaled a shaky breath. “M-m-my mom’s c-called. Twice.”

Niall’s face melted into horror. “ _What?_ ”

Liam nodded. “L-last week, and last ni—n-ni-ight.”

“What did she say?”

Liam looked at his lap. “D-dunno. Di-idn’t answer.”

“Good.”

Liam’s eyes flicked up from his knees to look reproachfully at Niall. “N-Ni…”

“No. You know what? Fuck. Her.”

Liam gaped at Niall, appalled. “I–- _what_?”

“You heard me,” Niall said unapologetically. “If she was too idiotic to come running after you the second you left home, she doesn’t deserve you as a son.”

Liam curled in on himself. He knew this, he _knew_ it. He’d let the phone ring both times, hadn’t he? But…but there was still a small part of him that kept reminding Liam all the good reasons his mother had for not wanting him as a son. There were things seriously _wrong_ with him.

“Liam,” Niall started again, softer this time. “It’s okay to be mad at her.”

Liam drew small mushy circles in his oatmeal with the spoon. “I know.”

“No, you don’t.” Niall sounded dejected, and Liam’s heart fell.

“S-sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry.”

Liam was anyway.

“So you didn’t answer her, though?”

“N-no.” Liam shrugged. “S-s-scared, I guess.”

“You should have called me,” Niall persisted. “I would have come home—“

“I c-called Z-Z-Zayn.”

Niall was taken aback. “In North Carolina?”

Liam’s cheeks heated. “Well…yeah.”

“Oh.” A smile slowly stretched across Niall’s face.

Liam twisted the spoon nervously between his fingers. “What?”

“Nothing, nothing. I mean—well, _something_.” Niall took a breath to collect his thoughts. “I just mean. I’m happy you and the boys are getting close.”

Liam had the sneaking feeling that the words “especially Zayn” had almost been tacked onto the end of that sentence, but for some reason Niall had restrained himself.

Liam, who was not much in the mood to discuss his ever-more-complicated feelings for Zayn (but really, when was he?), shoveled oatmeal in his mouth in lieu of responding.

 

***

 

At work, when Liam’s thought processes were unhampered with explaining his fragile mental state to Niall, he had ample time to process what had happened the preceding night.

Zayn said he _liked_ him.

Really, _really_ liked him.

What did that _mean_? Liam had no clue.

Because here were the things Liam knew: 1) Zayn liked boys, 2) Liam liked boys, 3) Zayn did not know Liam liked boys, 4) when Zayn admitted to liking boys, he had assured Liam that he would _not_ flirt with him. On the one hand, this could simply be Zayn’s automatic reassurance to apparently straight boys whenever coming out. But it might also be subtle reference to the fact that though he and Liam might be good friends, and he certainly appreciated Liam as a human being, he did not want Liam to confuse this kindness with romantic sentiment. So. There were a lot of options, and Liam was really leaning more toward the latter, because, difficult though it was to admit even to himself, he could not honestly say he believed Zayn would ever have good reason to like him. It simply wouldn’t make sense. Even if Zayn appreciated his personality (and Liam was still struggling with the crushing doubt that Zayn just wasn’t seeing his many, endless, unforgivable flaws) Liam was certainly nothing to look twice at. _Definitely_ not compared to Zayn, in any case.

So, after Zayn had said his bit about really, really liking Liam, Liam had responded the only honest way he could: telling Zayn that he liked him, too.

Liam had no idea what this admission would even mean to Zayn, if anything at all. Zayn had proclaimed it “good,” whatever the hell that meant.

Liam was so confused. Feelings were difficult. This felt like Andy all over again, and just the thought made Liam’s guts churn with anxiety.

Liam considered his next move. He had one more day before Zayn returned from his family trip. They’d been texting throughout the day, but text conversation was hardly the place to discern someone’s feelings. And besides, the conversation had been light and casual, probably Zayn’s way of being sensitive to Liam’s raw emotional state (much appreciated). So he had a day to figure this out.

He ultimately decided to talk to Harry. Primarily because he still hadn’t told Niall about his penchant for having crushes on other boys, and also because a personal conversation with Harry was infinitely less terrifying than a personal conversation with Louis.

Liam acquired his target over by the picnic tables, wiping down sticky seats and picking up litter.

“Hey,” said Harry, looking up from his work when Liam cast a shadow over the bench he was wiping.

“H-hi.” Liam jammed his fists in his pockets uncomfortably and rocked back on his heels. “Uh. I—c-can I…ask y-y-you s-some-something?” _Hold it together, Liam. You can do this. You trust Harry. Harry looks out for you. It’s all going to be fine._

Harry, sensing that a touchy issue was about to be broached, sat down on the newly cleaned picnic bench and patted the spot next to him invitingly. Liam sat down carefully, trying not to shrink in on himself too much.

“Of course,” Harry said, very slowly and deliberately. Like he actually meant it, dispelling Liam’s fears about Harry treating the issue flippantly, or hating him. 

Liam rubbed his arms anxiously and bounced his knees, looking at the ground. Harry was looking at him and suddenly Liam was fighting the compulsion to just run away.

“Is this about Zayn?”

At Harry’s guess, Liam looked up sharply, fearfully. Harry was watching him kindly, waiting for him to confirm.

Liam bit his lip and nodded quickly before he had time to overthink it.

Harry nodded back and _hmm_ -ed, obviously waiting for Liam to continue.

Liam couldn’t make himself say it. He couldn’t. He opened his mouth and shut it again. Then looked desperately up at Harry, wishing for all the world Harry could just read his mind.

“You’re massively crushing on him, huh?”

Liam physically leaned back. Holy crap. He nodded again, mouth agape.

A grin spread across Harry’s face, slow and easy. “Yeah. Yeah, I figured.”

Liam tried not to look too miserable. If Harry had figured it out, Niall definitely had. And Louis too, since he and Harry seemed to share one brain. And Zayn…

“Hey,” Harry murmured, carefully taking Liam’s hand, his own moving carefully so Liam could track the motion and not be startled. “If it’s any consolation, I think he’s equally gone over you. No, scratch that. Probably more.”

Liam tried to squash the feelings of hope stirring within him. What if Harry was wrong? Liam couldn’t handle that. Liam was having difficulty processing that _he liked a boy who might possibly maybe somehow like him back. Maybe_.

“I know it’s scary,” Harry started again. “Liking anyone is scary. But especially…especially a boy. And especially if people in your life haven’t been altogether…supportive of that sort of thing.”

Liam actually whimpered and hunched his shoulders, instinctively trying to disappear, but Harry’s thumb just brushed comfortingly over the back of his hand.

“Do you know, I was the only openly gay kid in my high school.” Harry ran a hand through his hair, making it more insanely ruffled than usual. “I was this curly-headed dweeb who liked flowers and tie dye and boys and _everyone_ noticed me. And sometimes guys would rag on me, push me into lockers and yell names at me in the hallways. Typical high school bullshit, and all that.”

Liam remembered the positively venomous look on Harry’s face when he spoke of Liam’s two landscaping tormentors. It seemed ludicrous that anyone could look at Harry, with his adorable baby face and big smiles and soft gestures, and find something to hate. “S-sorry,” he said commiseratively.

Harry shrugged. “I mean, yeah, it sucked. But, like. It’s over now, and even in school it was totally worth it because I had Lou. I _love_ him, Liam, and that was so _totally_ worth all the other shit. I promise. And now I get to hang out with you and Lou and Niall and, fuck, I guess Zayn, now, too.

“I guess what I’m saying is…whatever anyone’s told you about being _wrong_ , Liam, it’s bullshit. And no one who matters is ever gonna hate you for it.”

“N-Niall…” Liam twisted the fingers of his free hand in the fabric of his shirt. “I l-live with him…”

Harry actually chuckled, startling Liam. “Niall _loves_ you,” Harry assured. “He would do anything for you, Liam. You never have to worry about telling Niall something that would make him hate you. I’m—“ He broke off, looking hesitantly at Liam, who looked hesitantly back. Then, wearily, Harry continued, “I’m sorry that someone ever made you doubt that.”

Liam clutched more desperately at Harry’s hand and hid his face in Harry’s shoulder. He felt Harry’s cheek come to rest on the top of his head.

“You’re gonna be okay,” Harry promised. “It’s okay. You’re okay.”

 

***

 

“Liam is my new favorite,” Louis proclaimed, brandishing a half-eaten cookie at no one in particular and spraying crumbs out of his mouth with each syllable.

Harry frowned. “Let’s not forget that _I’m_ the reason you have cookies right now, Lou.”

“Liam is everyone’s favorite,” Niall agreed.

Louis swallowed his mouthful and blew a kiss at Harry, who looked slightly mollified.

Liam would never have suspected twenty-year-old boys to be so easily won over with chocolate chip cookies, but right now he was four for four. He’d decided that he really should follow through on his promise for baked goods for Harry, especially after his little comfort session yesterday. Of course, he’d had to make two batches, since Harry would undoubtedly be sharing the cookies with the rest of their shift (Niall and Louis were not as respectful as Perrie, and had no qualms about scarfing down Harry’s gift). Harry dramatically rolled his eyes as Louis snatched up yet _another_ cookie and shook his head commiseratively at Liam. Liam picked at one of his own cookies and smiled fondly back.

“Did Liam make those?”

Liam nearly cricked his neck he looked around so fast. Zayn was standing in the doorway, pointing in an almost threatening manner at a puffy-cheeked Louis, who stopped chewing and narrowed his eyes at Zayn. After a heavy swallow, Louis said, completely seriously, “You’ll have to fight me for them.”

“They’re _mine_ ,” Harry reminded him gently.

“I can take you,” Zayn said confidently, as if Harry had not spoken.

Liam, eager to diffuse the situation and make sure that Harry got at least _two_ of the cookies, lifted one of his own pastries out to Zayn. Zayn took it with a grin and slid down the wall to sit next to Liam. Their arms were touching. Liam felt his heart rattle in his chest.

“How was vacation?” Harry inquired, propping his feet up on Louis’s lap and leaning back in his chair.

“Good. I mean, the beach was good. Got to spend some time with Doniya—she’s been off doing a research program this summer, so it was nice we got to hang out for a bit. Car ride was bedlam, though. Ten hours with the five of them.”

“Can’t imagine a ten hour car ride with my sisters,” Louis said. “I don’t think I’d make it forty minutes without ripping the tape from the cassette and strangling someone with it.”

“There’s no way your family still listens to cassette tapes in the car,” Harry dismissed.

“That is beside the point, Harold,” Louis proclaimed. “I’m merely commending Zayn for his ability to stand several hours in an enclosed space with family members without losing his mind.”

Zayn chuckled. “Well, it wasn’t all bad. And I got this while I was in North Carolina, which made the trip back more enjoyable.” Zayn angled himself awkwardly, leaning more fully against Liam, to reach into his back pocket. He withdrew a brand-new iPod Touch and presented it in his open palm to the others.

“Nice,” Harry murmured appreciatively.

“Yeah, guess being forced to make some extra cash this summer was worth it after all.”

“Thanks, love you too, buddy,” Niall said grumpily.

“And _of course_ getting to know all of you,” Zayn assured, rolling his eyes and bumping shoulders with Liam.

Liam smiled and nodded at the iPod “’s n-nice,” he admired.

“Yeah, check it out, I’ve already put all my music on it.” Zayn slid the hold button over such that the screen lit up to show the menu. He took one of the ear buds and stuck it in his right ear, and then held out the left one to Liam, who hesitated. “Take it,” Zayn encouraged. “It’s okay.”

Liam cautiously reached out, fumbled with the ear bud for a moment, and carefully placed it in his ear. Zayn grinned at him and scrolled through to find “Sympathy for the Devil.” One of his favorites. Liam tipped his head back against the wall and leaned into Zayn.

 

***

 

The following evening, Niall was out on another date with Andrea, so Liam invited Zayn to come over and watch a movie. He was beyond nervous when he extended the invitation, but Zayn looked sincerely pleased that Liam had asked, and immediately accepted.

If Liam thought that finally asking would relieve some of the pressure in his chest, he was wrong. On the contrary, over the course of the afternoon his anxiety only increased. It reached the point that Zayn actually rested a hand on Liam's shoulder before clocking out and said, “I’ll be by ‘round seven?” and when Liam nodded, “Good. And don’t panic. It’s going to be fun.” The last part was said with the intonation of a joke, but Zayn’s eyes conveyed genuine concern for Liam’s peace of mind. Liam nodded jerkily and texted Zayn the address.

At 6:55, Liam was on a continuous loop around the apartment: he would 1) make sure his personal effects were cleared from the living room, 2) go to the bathroom and contemplate being sick (and subsequently give up since he hadn’t been able to force down any lunch), 3) stand by the front door, 4) decide that was creepy and sit on the couch, and 5) repeat.

It was a good thing Niall had already left, or he’d be both very dizzy and very amused by Liam’s jitters. Liam nearly leapt out of his skin when he heard the knock at 6:57. Liam tripped over himself in his haste to answer the door, but as soon as he was standing there, hand on the knob, he steeled himself. _Don’t look too desperate_. He counted to five-Mississippi in his head before twisting the handle and hesitantly pulling the door open. Zayn was all debonair smiles and ruffled hair and loose-hanging clothes and Liam’s mouth might have popped open against his will. He quickly shut it, swallowed, and said (squeaked), “Hey.”

“Hey,” Zayn replied, cool as a cucumber. He stood there grinning expectantly at Liam for another minute before Liam got it.

“Oh! C-come in, p-please.” Liam blushed.

“Thanks,” Zayn chuckled, stepping past him into the apartment.

Liam closed the door behind him and hovered awkwardly as Zayn’s eyes swept around the living room. Liam anxiously scanned the vicinity for any underwear or socks he might have accidentally left lying about, but the room was immaculate.

“There’s no way in hell Niall Horan’s place of residence normally looks like this,” Zayn declared confidently.

Liam rubbed his neck sheepishly. “M-might have c-c-cleaned up a bit,” he admitted.

Zayn snorted and shook his head. “Don’t see why—you’ve already been in my room. You know what a clusterfuck it is in there.”

Liam blushed at the reference to the last time he was in Zayn’s bedroom (not, he thought dismally, for the normal teenage boy reasons to blush about a bedroom). He shrugged to hide his embarrassment and moved over to the shelf where Niall kept his movies. Zayn followed and peered over his shoulder. “Suggestions?” he asked, and Liam just shrugged again.

“ _Leeyum_ ,” Zayn drawled—something he’d picked up from Louis, who liked using this voice to annoy Liam into doing things for him. “Come on, you must have some preference.” Zayn hooked his chin on Liam’s shoulder and whoa, did it just get ten degrees warmer in here? Liam could feel the contraction of the muscles in Zayn’s throat as the other boy swallowed, and his breath was right in Liam’s ear. This felt so…pleasant (in a terrifying, dangerous sort of way).

To extricate himself from such treacherous waters, Liam automatically reached for _The Big Lebowski_ and held it up for Zayn’s approval.

“Awesome,” was the response Liam got just before Zayn pulled away. Liam’s skin still felt abnormally hot, so he made himself busy sliding the movie into the DVD player and then went to make popcorn. He returned from the kitchen to see Zayn flopped out on the couch like he owned the place, utterly at ease. Liam moved to take a seat in the recliner chair, but halted when Zayn moved his feet so as not to take up two spots on the couch. Oh. Liam remained frozen, unsure what to do. Zayn, taking pity on him, rolled his eyes and patted the place next to him invitingly. Liam sat cautiously down and Zayn immediately reached for the bowl of popcorn.

“Dankth,” he thanked Liam, the word slightly garbled by the food in his mouth, and slung his arm across the back of the couch. Liam withdrew the remote from beneath his left butt cheek to press play and settled a little more comfortably in his seat. He was okay. He could do this.

Luckily, Liam really liked _The Big Lebowski_ , which provided him with some distraction from the fact that he was sitting arm-to-arm, thigh-to-thigh once again with Zayn fucking Malik, who _really, really liked him_. Liam found himself relaxing into the warmth of Zayn’s shoulder and even felt himself close to dozing off a few times. Hurray for emotional maturity, he thought. Look at him go. He’d invited a friend over, _alone_ , independently entertained said friend, and was allowing said friend into his personal space. He had grown almost accustomed to Zayn's touch now; this was a level he’d only thus far achieved with Niall…and maybe a bit with Harry. God, would the Liam from a month ago even recognize this Liam? He didn’t think so.

“What are you smiling about?”

Liam looked over to see Zayn watching him instead of the movie, the corners of his mouth quirked up in amusement. Liam cleared his throat uncomfortably. “Nothing,” he said, aiming for _blasé_ and probably missing it by a longshot, ending up somewhere between _stiff_ and _rude_ instead. Zayn stared him down.

“J-j-ust. Uhm. Glad y-y-ou’re here,” Liam said honestly, twisting the hem of his shirt between his fingers. He still wasn’t entirely used to the idea of telling someone other than Niall how much he wanted— _needed_ —their company.

”Yeah, me too,” Zayn agreed. And if Liam thought he wasn’t used to saying it, he certainly wasn’t used to _hearing_ that people enjoyed his company. Zayn never seemed to tire of telling him, though, and it made Liam’s insides feel like melted caramel.

When the credits rolled, “Want to watch something else?” Zayn inquired, his question stretched out by a long yawn.

Liam shrugged and adjusted himself on the couch; his left thigh was numb and that foot was starting to tingle uncomfortably. “N-Niall should be home s-s-oon,” he said by way of answer, though he wasn’t entirely sure what he meant by it.

Zayn did not seem put-out. “He really likes this Andrea girl, then?” he mused.

Liam shrugged, “S’pose s-so,” he admitted. This was another reason Liam had been more intensely grateful for the other boys’ company as of late: he’d been so afraid that Niall would forget to live his own life this summer, too busy watching out for Liam, making sure he didn’t crumble in on himself. But the fact that Niall now trusted him to spend hours by himself with only last minute’s notice, trusted Liam to find his own company, Niall must surely see the same changes Liam was recognizing in himself. Liam was almost kind of proud of himself, if only for changing such that Niall didn’t feel the need to hover all the time.

“That’s good. He deserves someone special,” Zayn said with a fondness that Liam would not have thought possible on that first day Niall and Zayn encountered one another. Liam smiled to himself. 

Zayn laughed, and Liam raised a confused eyebrow. “It’s nice to see you in such a good mood,” Zayn explained. “I like your smile.”

 _I like your smile?_ What the fuck did that mean? Liam was pretty sure this was the first time Zayn had ever complimented something of his appearance, and he was about as confused about it as Zayn _really, really liking him_. Too bemused to formulate any semblance of response, Liam ducked his head shyly and went back to fiddling with his shirt.

Zayn just laughed. “Still no better at taking compliments, I see,” he said, and stood up to go examine the shelf of movies again.

“How do you feel about _Lord of the Rings_?” he asked Liam, holding up the DVD set.

“Sure. N-Niall’s got all th-the extended versions.”

“Perfect. We won’t have to trouble with picking a next movie, then, since _no one_ has the stamina to make it through all three of those in one sitting.”

Liam smiled in spite of himself and went to make more popcorn.

Zayn was right. Liam fell asleep halfway through _The Fellowship of the Ring_ , and did not awake until the front door banged open and Niall appeared.

“’sup?” he greeted, grinning like a madman.

Liam lifted his head from where it had slumped against Zayn’s shoulder and looked blearily up at his roommate.

“I take it your date went well?” Zayn guessed, and Liam looked sharply over at him. Zayn had definitely not been asleep, he was alert and smirking at Niall, halfway through pushing a fist full of popcorn in his mouth. Liam was suddenly embarrassed about having fallen asleep on him. But Zayn had let him, hadn’t he? So it must not be that big of a deal. Right? Right.

“It was awesome,” Niall agreed, toeing off his shoes and collapsing into the recliner. “She’s awesome. Everything’s awesome.”

Zayn snickered and even Liam cracked a sleepy smile.

“Hey, don’t laugh at my smitten-ness,” Niall complained. “It’s a wonderful, spectacular, —”

“— _awesome_ thing?” Zayn interrupted.

“ _Yes_.”

“We’re very happy for you,” Zayn said, sounding more sincere now, and Liam nodded in agreement.

Niall wore a self-indulgent smile for a couple minutes, before he seemed to really take notice of what was going on in the room around him.

“What’s all this, then?” he asked, gesturing to Zayn and Liam and the TV all in one movement. “Movie night?”

“Yup,” Zayn confirmed. “Though I think it might be drawing to a close. Liam’s been asleep for a while, so I’m gonna head out soon. I should also probably get some sleep before work tomorrow.”

Niall nodded his approval. “Yeah, I’m with you.” To Liam, “Your blankets and shit in my room, then?” Liam nodded and rubbed his eyes. “Right.” Niall hoisted himself out of the chair with great effort and trudged into the bedroom, emerging a few moments later with Liam’s bedclothes and pillows. He tossed them down onto Liam’s head and lap. Liam made a disgruntled noise of protest but only moved to pull the blanket off his head.

“I should probably get off your bed, I suppose,” said Zayn, standing up to stretch. Liam stood up too, preparing to make his bed for the night. He was slightly distracted when he found Zayn’s arms held out in ready-to-hug position. Liam paused, and Zayn tilted his head and flexed his fingers invitingly. Cautiously, Liam stepped into his arms.

It was a quick, friendly hug, but as Liam squeezed Zayn back, he felt like something in his chest and throat was swelling, almost ready to burst. He closed his eyes momentarily and just let himself have this one thing.

Zayn let go way before Liam was ready, but he didn’t make a fuss. Just said his farewells before Zayn turned to hug Niall goodbye.

“See you at work tomorrow,” was the last they heard before Zayn stepped out into the hall and closed the door. Liam, vaguely aware of the dreamy smile spread across his face, looked at Niall. And startled when he found Niall was looking back at him.

“Wh-what?” said Liam, scratching one arm uncomfortably.

Niall considered for a moment and then, apparently at random, said, “I’m gonna go make tea. Want any?”

Liam shook his head. Was bed no longer the plan? Liam was exhausted.

“You want some tea,” Niall decided for him, already disappearing into the kitchen. “Don’t fall asleep, I want to talk to you.”

Liam, feeling very much like a trapdoor had opened beneath him, sat stiffly back on the couch, his hand running over the warm fabric where Zayn had been sitting, and waited.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't even mean for this to be a cliffhanger, I just really wanted to post this chunk since it's been forever since I updated, and haven't quite figured out the details for the next part of this scene yet haha. So sincere apologies about the shitty ending. Also sorry this chapter is a bit shorter than usual.
> 
> Also, since I've been treating these endnotes like reader surveys: People who have been reading since I posted the first chapter may have noticed that I've changed the summary approximately five hundred million times. Give or take. 'cause I feel like...when I'm scrolling through stories, summaries are what either really catches my eye and makes me read, or what really turns me off to reading a certain story. They can be so hit or miss. So I guess my question is, what do you guys think of the summary? Did you maybe choose to read because of the summary, or did you read in spite of the summary? Your general impression? Constructive criticism? Or does it not even matter to you, like, tags are more important? Honestly just curious, and since this is where I usually beg for feedback in the comments, thought I'd ask here.


	6. Part 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> sorry I'm the worst and accidentally deleted the chapter I just posted. here it is again. blargh.

“There you go.” Niall placed a warm mug between Liam’s fingers. “Careful, it’s hot.”

Liam nodded his thanks and stared down at the amber liquid, wondering if dousing himself with it and acquiring some second-degree burns would get him out of this conversation.

“If you’re considering drowning yourself in your tea, don’t bother,” Niall said lightly, settling carefully down on the cushion next to Liam so as not to jostle his own beverage. Ah, too bad.

Liam cast one last woeful look at his mug and reluctantly met Niall’s eyes. This was it, wasn’t it?

“So.”

Niall paused and sucked his lower lip between his teeth to chew it contemplatively. Silence. Liam squirmed in his seat. Okay, now he wanted to splash _Niall_ with scalding hot tea for letting such painful suspense build.

“I had an interesting conversation with Harry yesterday,” Niall finally continued.

Liam felt as if someone had just plunged an icicle right into his chest. What? How could—? He had _trusted_ Harry. That was a big deal for Liam. And Harry had just thrown him right under the bus and not even allowed Liam to come to Niall on his own, to have this conversation on his own terms—

“You’re panicking,” Niall observed, looking more concerned now. He put down his tea on the coffee table and angled himself to sit cross-legged on the couch, facing Liam dead-on. “Hey, Liam, whatever you’re thinking, that’s not what it is.”

Liam made a frustrated, disbelieving face at Niall and actually snorted. What the hell did that even mean?

“That…didn’t make any sense,” Niall conceded. “What I meant is, Harry just came up to me the other day and said I should make sure you were doing okay. He seemed worried about you. Sorry, I didn’t mean to imply that he said something that maybe you told him in confidence?” Niall looked unsure and cracked his knuckles nervously, and Liam realized how very strange it must be for Niall to be out of the loop on certain aspects of Liam’s life. How weird for him, having Liam actually trust someone _else_ as a confidante.

“I—okay,” Liam said aloud, because Niall still looked apologetic and Liam wanted to make sure he knew it wasn't his fault. “I…y-yeah. I th-thought…” He shrugged and lifted a hand to reference what Niall had just said, before letting it fall limply back into his lap.

“Okay,” Niall echoed back, concern still etched in every line of his face. “So…are you okay? I mean, you seemed better to me. Like, happier? Are you happy here? Because you can tell me if you aren’t. We can work something else out, so you don’t have to go back to, uh. You know. Your parents.” Niall bit out the last part like the word “parents” might cause Liam physical harm.

“N-no,” Liam said quickly. “I’m s-s-so happy here, Niall. B-better…better than an-anyth-th-thing I ever…” he trailed off rather weakly. “I don’t w-want to leave,” he nearly whispered.

“And I don’t want you to leave,” Niall assured him hastily. “It’s been really great having you here. I missed you, like, a _lot_ , after we moved.”

Liam took a small sip of tea because if he didn’t keep his mouth occupied he was either going to start crying or…yeah. Probably start crying.

“Which just leaves me wondering why Harry thought something might be wrong,” Niall went on. “And it’s like. You don’t _have_ to tell me _everything_ , obviously, but you _can_ tell me _anything_. You just don’t seem to believe me when I say that, still, so that’s why I keep reminding you.” Niall chuckled halfheartedly and raked a hand through his hair.

Liam took a shaky breath and plowed on before he had time to question himself. Because Niall deserved the truth — had from the beginning, really. It had been six weeks, and Liam owed him this small courtesy.  

“M-my dad used t-t-to, um, knock me ar-ar-round a lit-ittle,” Liam admitted. It came out much more quietly than he intended. And then, when Niall’s mouth opened, he set his tea down stiffly and amended, “A l-lot, ac-act-tually. ‘cause h-he hated the w-w-way I talked, I guess. Be-because I sound s-s-stu-upid. So I stopped talking t-til I met you. But then you l-l-left and I started liking b-boys and g-got kicked out be-bec-cause no one w-wants a f-f-f…f-fag for a kid…” Niall now looked so horrified that, for the first time since his mother last called, Liam felt tears on his face. “I’m s-s-sorry I lied to y-you,” he rushed on. “I j-just thought…m-maybe you would hate me t-too—“

Liam’s emotional tirade was cut off with a high-pitched squeak as Niall’s arms enclosed him and brought him flush against a t-shirt clad chest. Liam dipped his head onto Niall’s shoulder.

“Oh, god. _Liam_.” Niall sounded utterly wrecked, even with his mouth pressed against Liam’s own shoulder.

It was about thirty seconds before Niall pulled free of the hug, hands still bracing Liam’s shoulders, and Liam realized that he looked on the verge of tears.

“Liam,” he said again, forlornly. “Fuck, I—I didn’t…I didn’t know. How could I not know?” Niall looked livid with himself. “That god damn, motherfucking son of a _bitch_ —"

Liam had never heard Niall spew so many curse words in quick succession. It was almost comical and Liam felt a hysterical laugh bubble to his lips. He suppressed it just in time, suspecting this was not the appropriate moment for such absurdity.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Niall looked rather defeated and sad now, his hands rubbed up and down on Liam’s arms. “Liam, I could never hate you for this. You’re not—it’s not your fault.” Niall paused here and set his mouth in a stern line. “Liam, you weren’t to blame for any of that shit, you understand me? Your parents were fucking idiots not to see how great you are. _They_ screwed up, not you.”

Liam sniffled again and nodded, actually tentatively believing that it might be true. It had taken nearly a month and a half, but he was actually starting to buy into this whole…him being a decent human being thing. Liam still knew that he was a bit…broken? Did that sound pathetic? Yeah, it did. But—but he was starting to think maybe he wasn’t entirely deserving of the hatred he’d endured at home. Small steps, but still. Liam had just admitted to Niall that he was…

“And who cares if you like boys?” said Niall, like he could spontaneously read Liam’s mind. “It’s fine. You really thought I’d hate you for that? My other two best friends suck each other’s dicks on a regular basis. Would be a bit hypocritical of me, don’t you think?”

Liam actually did succumb to a watery laugh now and wiped his face with the back of one hand.

“Also,” Niall said, looking a bit guilty now, “I did kind of suspect.” Yeah, Liam had suspected that Niall suspected. “You know, with the way you look at Zayn, like he hung the moon and stars in the sky or some shit.”

Liam’s mouth fell open incredulously.

“Oh, come on, dude. Don’t look like that,” Niall remonstrated with an exaggerated eye roll. “You know it’s true.”

“I r-really like him.”

Liam realized after he said it that this was the first time he’d ever confessed his feelings for Zayn aloud to another person. It was gut-wrenching and liberating all at the same time.

Niall was full on beaming now. “Yeah, you do.”

Liam joke-punched Niall in the shoulder, which earned him an affectionate flick in the forehead.

“Don’t worry about it,” Niall said (like Liam could actually make himself follow that advice). “Everything will work out just how it’s supposed to. And you’re a great catch—" Liam looked at him dubiously “— _and_ if _you_ look like Zayn’s hung the stars, _he_ looks at you like the sun shines out of your ass.”

Liam wrinkled his nose and wrapped a blanket around himself, kind of embarrassed that he actually found that slightly flattering. Niall snickered. Liam smiled grudgingly.

“No more secrets,” Niall ordered, suddenly all serious again, waggling a finger at him and taking a sip of tea. “No more lies.” Liam nodded hurriedly. “Good.”

***

“’sup slackers,” Dani greeted, and Liam looked around in surprise. He’d never seen Danielle enter the filter room attic before, but here she was, stepping right in and sitting down like this was a regular occurrence. Liam looked over at Niall, whose eyebrows were raised, and took that to mean it was reasonable to be surprised. “Dani,” Niall greeted with blatant surprise.

“Hello,” Harry said slowly, glancing between Dani and the door. “How did you…”

“What are you doing here?” Louis asked bluntly.

“Rude,” Danielle reprimanded, and then looked to Liam, who had yet to speak. “Hi, Liam,” she greeted more cordially. Liam lifted his hand in hesitant greeting.

“What are you doing here?” Louis repeated.

Danielle rolled her eyes. “Just because I don’t have the time to spend all day lazing around up in this room doesn’t mean I’m oblivious to its existence,” Danielle dismissed. “But I’m on lunch break and Eleanor’s been sick for the past couple days so I’m lonely.”

“We can’t just entertain you on demand, Dani,” said Louis with feigned exasperation. “We’ve got important stuff to do.”

Danie raised a dubious eyebrow. “Such as?”

“Well. Haz bet me that he can hold is breath for forty seconds, and we’re just about to test that.” Louis wiggled the phone in his hand demonstratively.

“Oh my god.” Danielle groaned and looked helplessly over at Liam and Niall.

Niall shrugged and swept his hand through the air. “Welcome,” he deadpanned.

“You all are so boring today,” Danielle declared, holding up her fingernails for inspection. “Got any exciting weekend plans?”

Niall paused for a moment’s consideration. “Not really,” he allowed. “I mean, Friday’s the Fourth, so I thought we’d probably hang around here to watch the fireworks.”

“F-Fireworks?” This was the first Liam was hearing of this plan. He’d only seen fireworks once in his life—when he was much younger, his parents had taken him to see the New Years fireworks. But he’d been too alarmed and upset by the noise, and ultimately they’d had to leave early (upon returning home, Liam had gotten an earful about “growing up” and not being so “fucking sensitive” about such things). Honestly, Liam wasn’t even a big fan of thunder. But at least with thunder you could hide inside under some blankets. With fireworks it was _all right there_. No escape. 

“Yeah,” Niall said, “it’s kind of a tradition. Every year they have a big blow-out at the park for the holiday, so we always go up there and watch the show.” Niall pointed above his head to indicate the filer room roof. “It’s a good time.”

Liam was impeded from expressing his reservations about these plans by a loud, wet blowing noise across the room as Harry finally released the gulp of air he’d been holding.

Several large inhales later, “Did I do it?” Harry demanded of Louis, who was examining the stopwatch on his phone.

“Thirty-eight seconds,” Louis said, his tone caught between sympathetic and triumphant.

Harry went boneless in his chair with disappointment and exhaustion. Louis slipped his phone back in his pocket and delicately pointed out, “You owe me lunch.” Harry showed him his middle finger.

“Rude,” Louis declared, winking at Danielle, who was unamused.

“Anyway,” Niall said when Dani redirected her attention to him, “if you’re free on Friday, you should join.”

“I think I will,” she mused. “It’s the first year in a while that I’ll actually be in town for the holiday; it’d be nice to do something. Mind if I invite Josh and El?”

“The more the merrier,” Niall encouraged.

Liam rested his chin in the palm of his hand and wondered how he might get out of this.

***

Unfortunately, Liam was utter shit at contriving excuses. Also, he felt like breaking his “no lying” promise to Niall after only three days was probably out of the question. So come Friday night, he found himself nervously twisting the fabric of his sweatshirt between his fingers and being more than characteristically quiet as Niall puttered around the apartment, collecting food items for consumption during the fireworks show. Meanwhile, Harry was steadily getting stoned on the couch and Louis was nursing a beer, flipping through channels trying to find a rerun of the parade broadcast. There was a knock on the door and Eleanor, Josh, and Danielle all entered without waiting to be invited in.

“Heyyo,” Josh greeted, hand-in-hand, Liam noted, with Eleanor.

“Hi,” Harry replied and Louis raised a lazy hand.

“Josh, if I pack Cheetos are you going to eat the whole bag within ten minutes of getting there?” Niall asked from the kitchen, holding up the bag under consideration.

“Probably,” Josh admitted, removing the joint from Harry’s hand and inhaling deeply. Then coughed. Niall paused, and then stuffed the bag in his backpack anyway.

“When’s this thing start?” Danielle asked, folding her arms and politely refusing the marijuana offered to her.

Niall checked his watch. “Mmm, like, half an hour. We should head over soon.”

“Haz, carry me?” requested Louis, smiling saccharinely at his boyfriend before taking another sip.

“No way,” Harry refused, removing his feet from where they were propped up on the recliner so Eleanor could sit down.

“Pleeaassee,” Louis begged, slumping over onto Harry’s side heavily and pouting on his shoulder.

“Nope,” said Harry, popping the “p” like it was bubble gum.

“Please,” Louis repeated, peppering wet kisses up Harry’s neck and face in a sloppy attempt to convince him.

“Put the gay away, boys,” Josh said, kicking Lou in the shin to get him to make room on the couch. Liam felt himself freeze where he was leaning against the island, his heart making resounding ka-thumps at twice it’s regular pace. But Louis just stuck out his tongue at Josh and made space, and Niall said, “Don’t be a dick, Josh.” When Liam looked around, he found Niall was trying to make eye contact. Niall flashed an encouraging smile and wrapped an arm around his shoulders. “He’s joking,” he said under his breath, swiping a comforting hand over Liam’s shoulder. “Only joking.” Liam nodded uncertainly and leaned into Niall. It was weird having Niall in-tuned with Liam’s discomfort in this particular area, but Liam was glad for it.

“Zayn’s going to meet up with us tonight,” Niall commented, smiling at Liam (who had the strong suspicion that were the room not filled with other people, Niall would be waggling his eyebrows as well).

“Awes-s-some.” Liam suddenly felt better knowing that Zayn would be there. Not just because Liam enjoyed his company, but also because whereas Niall would probably be distracted with the group, and Louis and Harry were sometimes oblivious (Lou more so than Harry), Zayn seemed consistently in touch with how Liam was feeling. He was patient with Liam, which, as far as Liam was concerned, was the greatest kindness anyone could extend to him. Zayn wouldn’t give him shit if he found the whole thing too…overwhelming.

“Yeah, fireworks,” Niall continued, and Liam had a feeling this was going somewhere dangerous. “Kind of a…romantic sort of situation.”

Liam actually jumped and looked reproachfully at Niall.

“I’m kidding,” Niall quickly assured, even though he clearly wasn’t. At least, not entirely.

Liam hadn’t even considered the many movie scenes he’d viewed with people kissing and holding hands under fireworks. Wasn’t it true that when people kissed their crushes, they often described the feeling as akin "fireworks"? Liam felt the pads of skin in his clenched fists start to sweat.

“Hey,” Niall murmured, wrapping his arm a bit tighter. “I was only kidding. I didn’t mean to make you nervous. Sorry.”

Liam nodded because Niall looked exceedingly guilty and patted the hand on his shoulder bracingly.

“Sh-should we go?” he suggested, and Niall perked up.

“Yeah, yeah definitely.” He addressed the room at large now: “Alright! We’re leaving. Grab your shit and move out.”

No sooner were these words out of his mouth than there was another knock on the front door. Niall frowned and went to go answer it. Liam made himself busy with packing the rest of the rations Niall had piled on the counter. “Zayn,” Liam heard Niall greet, and his head snapped up.

“Hey,” Zayn said rather tersely and not smiling. Liam swallowed.

“You alright, dude?” Niall inquired, stepping aside to let him in.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Zayn dismissed. He ran a hand through his hair and followed him into the apartment. “In a bit of a fight with Dad, so I didn’t much feel like riding over to the park with my family. I don’t want to ruin the evening for the girls.” Niall nodded sympathetically. Zayn looked around at the convened group. “Sorry for barging in like this.”

“Don’t even worry about it,” said Niall unconcernedly. “We’re just leaving. Liam, can you bring that?” He gestured to the bag and Zayn looked over at Liam as though just realizing he was there, but he didn’t smile and warmly greet Liam like he usually did. Liam nodded nervously and slipped on the backpack, a suspicious clanking noise alerting him to the beer cans that were concealed in the bottom. Niall once again rallied the troops and shunted them all out the front door, locking it behind them. Liam walked alongside Zayn, but was unsure whether or not he should speak because Zayn still looked very much upset, even if he wasn’t verbalizing it.

When they arrived at the park, Liam could see Zayn furtively scanning the crowds in the parking lot, presumably for his family. Liam bit his lip. _Come on_ , he told himself bracingly. _Be useful in this relationship for once_. Zayn had comforted Liam in his times of need, and Liam was starting to think he might be due to return the favor. Zayn looked extremely tense, and past experience told Liam that a tightly wound Zayn was no good for anyone. Anxiety stirred in Liam's chest at the thought of a confrontation with Zayn, but he was still riding a wave of tenuous self-confidence after his confession to Niall, so he mustered up all his available courage and kindly told the timid part of himself to get over it. 

It wasn't like Liam was going to enjoy the fireworks, anyway.

So when they passed by the staircase to the filter room attic, Liam handed off the backpack to Niall and instead of following everyone else up the ladder to the roof, Liam boldly took hold of Zayn’s hand and pulled him in the other direction.

“Hey, where are you going?” Niall demanded, and Zayn looked equally confused (but, Liam noted with incredible relief, did not pull his hand away).

“H-have to t-t-talk to Zayn,” Liam said and looked rather pleadingly at his best friend.

Niall raised his eyebrow but did not question Liam further, and when Harry and Louis stopped to look curiously at their departing companions, Niall said, “move along, children,” and pushed them gently towards the ladder. Liam could have kissed Niall.

A small squeeze to his hand drew Liam’s attention back to Zayn, whose eyebrows were raised in silent question. And he didn’t look pleased, either; if anything, he looked impatient. Liam swallowed with difficulty. “U-up…up here,” Liam said tentatively, pulling Zayn in the direction of the staircase. They ascended in silence and Zayn pulled his hand away as soon as they crossed the threshold.

“What’s up?” he asked Liam curtly, folding his arms.

“D-dunno,” Liam said, a lot more casually than he felt, and folded his hands together uneasily. “Y-you looked upset, s-so. I thought m-maybe you’d want to, uh. T-talk about it.”

“Well, I don’t,” Zayn snapped, and Liam flinched.

Not that he’d really had much of a plan going into this, but all Liam could think was that this was going very much _not_ according to plan. What was he to do now? He pulled the sleeves of his hoody down over his fists and fervently wished he could just turn invisible.

“Oh—I—I…S-sorry,” Liam stammered, feeling the little bit of courage he'd summoned evaporate, “I…I sh-shouldn’t have…” He tried to backpedal and explain himself, but Zayn still had an angry glint in his eyes that was making it extremely difficult to focus.

“No, you shouldn’t have,” Zayn agreed angrily.

Liam took a step back. _He’s not going to hurt you. He’s not angry at you_. Well, Liam sort of believed that now. He was pretty convinced Zayn meant him no physical harm. But Liam wasn’t used to encounters with Zayn making him feel useless and powerless and stupid like this. It was all too familiar in a vaguely sickening sort of way and Liam felt those routine thoughts, so dormant for the past few weeks, seep back into the forefront of his mind: _Of course he didn’t want your help. You’re such an idiot for sticking your nose into his business, what could you do, anyway? You’re such a useless pile of shi—_

But Zayn was talking again, startling Liam out of his self-deprecating mental tangent (Liam wasn’t sure whether to be grateful for this or not): “Why do you even care, anyway?” Zayn said, sounding, Liam thought, like a petulant child.

That stopped Liam up short. Why did he…? Surely, even if Zayn wasn’t aware of the extent of Liam’s feelings, he must know that Liam cared about him. Valued him as a friend, at least. Also, Zayn had rescued him so many times that Liam had practically lost count (if his understanding of friendship was correct, then these things were meant to be reciprocated, right?). But, because “I owe you one” sounded a little crass, Liam responded, “B-because…w-we’re friends?” He phrased this as a reminder: _Zayn_ was the one who had made it official, after all. “And y-you’re a g-good person—“

Zayn snorted disbelievingly and Liam’s mouth snapped shut. “Oh yeah,” Zayn drawled. “I’m fucking great. You know what I am, Liam?” Liam opted not to respond and Zayn continued anyway, “A disappointment. A fuckup who gets kicked out of school for starting fights. An ungrateful bastard who refuses to get the degree his father wants. A waste of time and money.” Zayn dragged his fingers roughly through his hair again and emitted an exasperated sigh. “That sound like a good person to you?”

Liam pulled the collar of his sweatshirt up over his mouth and nose in a feeble attempt to hide.

“I’m just. So. Sick. Of him coming down on me,” Zayn said bitingly. “Always. I’m never…” Liam never found out what Zayn ‘never’ was, because he suddenly flared up again, “Do you have any idea what that’s _like_?”

Liam felt as though all of the air had been vacuumed out of his chest and his legs might crumple beneath him. At the same moment, Zayn seemed to come back to himself, and his eyes widened in realization, the wrinkle between his eyebrows smoothing over. “Shit,” Liam heard him murmur, and Zayn was suddenly rushing towards him.

Before he could stop himself, Liam opened his arms and embraced Zayn, clinging to him almost desperately. Liam didn’t have much experience initiating hugs, but it seemed like they both really needed one in this moment, so he decided to go for it. Zayn was surprisingly receptive to the idea. The tips of his fingers dug into Liam’s back almost painfully and his face was hidden in Liam’s shoulder. Liam could hear his breath fast and heavy even through the fabric of his sweatshirt.

“Shit,” Zayn muttered again. “I’m sorry, Li. _So_ sorry.”

“I’m s-sorry too,” Liam mumbled and Zayn drew back, smiling incredulously.

“Should’ve known you’d slip in an apology.” And damn it, he almost sounded _fond_. Liam was getting serious whiplash in this whole conversation. “What the hell do you have to be sorry for?”

“B-being nosey, “ Liam said guiltily, looking at Zayn's chin instead of his eyes. “Making y-y-you even m- _more_ upset…”

“No,” Zayn said rather forcefully, and Liam gulped. “I mean. I shouldn’t have been such an asshole to you. When you were only trying to help.”

“Okay.” Liam contemplated his next move carefully, since Zayn seemed to be in a particularly explosive mood. “Well, I’m sorry an-n-nyway—“ and when Zayn tried to interrupt “—not apologizing. J-just. Sympathetic.” And it was true. Liam _was_ sorry for Zayn having a father that made him feel like dirt, when the fact of the matter was that Zayn was one of the best things to ever happen to Liam, no matter what subjects he took in school. Liam was sorry Mr. Malik would probably never know that, and instead chose to focus on the aspects of his son that disappointed him.

Zayn seemed to accept this form of ‘sorry,’ and acquiesced to hug Liam once more before leaning back on one of the chairs pensively. Liam noted the tension leave Zayn’s shoulders and finally let out the breath he hadn’t even realized he was holding.

“Yeah, I mean. My dad and I…” Zayn scratched his jaw and weighed his words carefully before continuing. “I know he loves me, and I love him, but…we just don’t see eye to eye on anything anymore, it feels like. And it puts a lot of stress on Mom, and I don’t like that either. So we try not to fight so much but it all just gets bottled up and sometimes we explode at each other. Like tonight.” Zayn pinched the bridge of his nose.

“He p-prob-bably j-just wants t-to…You know. M-make sure you c-c-can take care of y-yourself. Financially.” Liam eyed Zayn carefully to see how he would take this reassurance; he still wasn’t entirely certain it wouldn’t be thrown right back in his face.

“I know,” Zayn sighed. “Like…he keeps reminding me that it’s _his_ money paying for school, but I keep reminding him that it’s _my_ life. And I could make a decent living teaching English. I don’t want to be rich or anything.” He looked almost pleadingly over at Liam, silently asking him to understand. Liam was struck by how vulnerable Zayn seemed in this moment. Liam saw for the first time how deep it cut Zayn to have his passion, his life’s ambition, be degraded like this. Fuck, all he wanted was to teach someone about books. Was that too much to ask?

“I th-think you’d be a g-great teacher,” Liam said earnestly. He didn’t really expect his own opinion to outweigh that of Zayn’s father, but it did bring a small smile to Zayn’s face, so Liam was counting that as a point in his favor.

“Thanks,” Zayn mumbled. “Yeah, I just. Yeah. It’s so frustrating having to prove myself to him over and over again. It feels like I’m never going to convince him that I’m actually any good at this thing that I love and that I can do it for the rest of my life. He doesn’t trust me at all.” Zayn shook his head. “And it _really_ doesn’t help that I screwed up so badly this past semester.”

Liam tilted his head questioningly.

“That fight,” Zayn elaborated. “I, uh. Well, I have kind of a quick temper. Obviously.” Zayn laughed at his self-mocking joke and Liam tried for a smile but wasn’t quite sure he pulled it off. “I kept getting into fights in high school so eventually I, um.” Zayn rubbed his nose awkwardly. “I started seeing someone,” he said in a rush. “Like. A professional.” Zayn seemed to find this statement worthy of embarrassment for some reason, so Liam didn’t comment.

“Anyway,” Zayn continued, “I got better at not lashing out and all that. But a couple months ago I was walking across campus with this guy and we were holding hands. It wasn’t anything serious; we’d gone out on a couple dates or whatever.” Zayn flapped his hand dismissively. “Some asshole made a homophobic comment and I’d just…been having a really bad week and I kind of lost it.”

Liam saw Zayn eying him uncertainly, undoubtedly waiting for more reassurance, so he tried to be as honest as possible. “Th-that…sucks,” he said rather lamely, and then blushed with embarrassment when Zayn laughed.

“Yeah, it does,” Zayn agreed.

“B-but you d-don’t…that’s not…” Liam wasn’t sure how to word this without sounding like he didn’t trust Zayn. “That’s not y-you anymore?” he tried.

Zayn shook his head. “I mean, I thought it wasn’t, and look what happened.” Zayn looked rather sad and disappointed in himself and Liam decided he was terrible at this whole comforting business. Probably should’ve left it to Niall, who was something of a pro after all his experience with Liam’s crippling self-doubt.

“But it w-wasn’t entirely unw-w-warranted,” Liam argued. “Th-that guy…”

“There are always gonna be ignorant people, Liam,” said Zayn reasonably. “Can’t really go knocking out their teeth every time we cross paths, can I?”

He had Liam there.

“So-sorry,” Liam said again, because he really wasn’t sure what else to say at this point.

“’s okay.” Zayn shrugged. “Transferring now anyway, so I won’t have to see that particular asshole anymo—“

He broke off when the first sizzle and bang of a firework exploded outside and Liam flinched violently, drawing the collar of his hoody back up over his face. Zayn’s eyebrows drew together. “You okay?” he said, approaching carefully.

Liam started to nod by then another boom made him suddenly change gestures and he shook his head vigorously. When Zayn pulled the hand that was fisted in his hoody away and clasped it between his own, Liam realized how he was trembling.

“I take it you don’t like fireworks,” guessed Zayn and Liam shook his head again. He knew it was silly to be nearly two decades old and still be afraid of something like fireworks. But admittedly, most of the loud noises in Liam’s life had been shouting, fists slamming into tables, and the like. Which, collectively, left a slightly negative impression.

“Hey, it’s okay,” Zayn said soothingly. “C’mere.”

He led Liam by the hand over to the wall where Liam spent most of his workdays and sat down. Liam followed him to the floor and hesitated, but made no protest when Zayn drew him to his chest. Liam settled against the solid warmth of his friend and tucked his head between Zayn’s collarbones and neck, where he curled up tighter when the next explosion sounded. This was a lot of touching, and Liam wasn’t entirely sure how he felt about it—only that he would rather be here than alone with all this racket.

“Th-this is the w-w-worst,” said Liam pettishly, holding his shaking hands under his chin while Zayn’s hand rubbed comfortingly up and down across his back (okay, so maybe it wasn’t the worst).

Zayn’s chest shook with quiet laughter. “Why did you agree to come?”

Liam shrugged. “Niall wanted to. ‘s t-tra-tradition, apparently.” He felt Zayn shaking his head.

“Why are you the best,” Zayn wondered aloud. Liam did not answer because a) it sounded rhetorical, b) his face suddenly felt very hot, and c) another round of fireworks chose that moment to go off. He shifted one hand to curl into Zayn’s shirt, and Zayn tilted his head so his cheek was pressed against Liam’s hair. “It’s okay,” he said again. “It’ll be over soon.”

That was a total lie, but even fifteen minutes later, Liam didn’t call him on it. Liam was rather distracted by the rhythmic swipes of Zayn’s palm across his back and the music softly emitted by Zayn’s iPod, which he had kindly turned on as a diversion. Liam didn’t get any kisses under the fireworks, but he decided he might like this just as well.

***

After the last fireworks finished, Niall came down from the roof to check on them. Liam had disentangled himself (grudgingly) from Zayn so that Niall wouldn’t feel guilty about the show terrifying Liam, as he inevitably would.

“You guys missed the whole thing,” Niall said regretfully.

“It’s okay,” said Zayn. “There’s always next year.”

Niall pulled a face. “Well, at least come have a swim with us.”

It was Zayn’s turn to look disconcerted about plans. “What?”

“Oh, right.” Niall grinned wickedly. “After watching the show, we usually wait til everyone leaves the park and then go swimming. The evening shift janitors always stay a couple hours late after the party to clean up, so they leave the lights on.”

“Is th-that allowed?” Liam asked uncertainly.

“No,” Niall said honestly. “But it’s fun.” He looked at Zayn. “Needless to say, your dad doesn’t really know about this, so…”

Zayn scoffed, “Yeah, like I’m going to tell him.”

“Great!” Niall clapped his hands together enthusiastically. “We have to wait til the park officially closes, so like…” He checked his watch and pinched his lips together thoughtfully. “Twenty minutes? Sound good?”

“Yeah, we’ll meet you down there,” said Zayn. Liam could tell the cheer in his voice was false, though it seemed to sufficiently fool Niall, who gave another nod and turned heel. Once Liam heard Niall’s footsteps reach the bottom of the staircase, he looked over to Zayn and said, “Don’t l-like swimming?”

“Can’t, actually,” Zayn admitted, using one hand to pick at the skin of the other thumb. “Never learned.”

“Really?” Liam was learning all sorts of things about Zayn today.

“Nope.” Zayn said this in a vaguely defensive way, and Liam reached out to rest a hand on his knee.

“’s okay,” said Liam earnestly.

Zayn held his gaze for a minute then puffed out a breath. “Yeah, I know. I’ll just…sit on the side or something. It’s fine.”

“I’ll s-sit with you,” Liam offered. Honestly, that option seemed far more appealing than possibly getting splashed in the face or dunked under water by a rambunctious Louis (two things that were certain to happen if he got in the water).

Zayn rested a hand over Liam’s own. “That’s okay, you don’t have to. C’mon.” He stood and reached out to help Liam up. “Don’t want you to miss out on any more of Niall’s tradition.”

***

Liam did end up getting splashed in the face. And dunked by a rambunctious Louis (luckily Niall was near enough that he could immediately help Liam resurface, and then went off after Lou to avenge him). After that experience, Liam decided he'd had enough swimming for the evening. Comfortable as he was getting with certain kinds of touch, surprise attacks (playful though they may be) were still totally beyond his limits. Liam quickly retreated to the wall and inched cautiously away from the group. 

Unfortunately, since they had not brought any changes of clothing, Liam was stuck in his drenched t-shirt and shorts as he made his way over to the shallow end where Zayn was perched . With the sun already set, Liam was left shivering as more of his torso emerged from the water.

“You look a bit chilly,” Zayn commented, kicking his bare feet in the water to make ripples. Liam nodded shakily and crossed his arms over his chest. “Saw Lou get you.”

“Kn-knew h-he w-w-wou-ould,” Liam grumbled, his stutter worsened by the chills wracking his frame. "I'm f-f-free-eezing."

“Dude, it's your shirt that's making you so cold,” Zayn said, plucking at the sleeve of Liam’s shirt, which clung wetly to his arm like a suction cup.

Liam hesitated. It wasn’t like he had anything to hide under his shirt anymore; even the bruises from the final Incident had faded. But. Liam was not used to other people seeing him bare. There was nothing in particular he felt self conscious about. It was just…all of him. 

But shit, he was cold. When Zayn leaned back to lie on the concrete, hands folded over his chest, gazing at the stars, Liam figured this was as good an opportunity as he would get. He peeled the shirt over his head and tossed it to the side, where it landed with a wet smack on the pool deck.

“Hey, Liam!” It was Niall, kind of swim-jogging his way over to the side where Liam and Zayn were. “Sorry about Louis. If it makes you feel any better, I got some water up his nose.”

In a weird sort of way, it did make Liam feel better. “Thanks,” he said, and offered his hand for a high-five, which Niall smacked enthusiastically.

“No problem. I got your back,” Niall said, bumping shoulders with him conspiratorially. “We’ll probably head out soon; evening shift is working a lot faster than I thought they would. Don’t want to be caught out here without lights on.”

Liam shook his head in agreement eyed the lights anxiously.

“Niall! Chicken!” They both looked over to see Louis on top of Harry’s shoulders and Josh waving frantically with both arms over his head. “Be my number two!”

Niall saluted Liam and dove under water to swim to his companions. Liam watched with some amusement as Niall clambered onto Josh’s shoulders and they staggered over to face off against Lou and Harry. Liam laughed as Louis made a wild grab for Niall’s shoulder and nearly slipped sideways into the water.

He glanced over to see if Zayn was also enjoying the show and jumped when instead he found Zayn staring at him. Or, more specifically, his chest. Liam looked down at himself uncertainly. This was a very bad idea. What was wrong with him? Liam couldn’t tell, but it had certainly captivated Zayn’s attention. He automatically wrapped his arms around himself, trying to conceal whatever it was Zayn was scrutinizing so intently, and tried to furtively sink lower into the water. “Wh-what?” he asked, feeling very small.

“What?” Zayn repeated, snapping out of it and looking up at Liam’s face, a light blush on his cheeks. Probably embarrassed for Liam’s sake, that someone else had noticed whatever was wrong with him. Poor, ugly Liam. When Liam didn’t say anything, Zayn went on, “Sorry, I just zoned out.” He chuckled uncomfortably. “Sorry,” he said again.

“N-no, it’s…” _not your fault I’m a freak; okay, I already know I’m not attractive,_ “fine.”

Zayn grunted something noncommittal and then cleared his throat. “I’m gonna go put on my shoes,” he said and immediately withdrew his feet from the water. Liam watched him cross the pool deck to the chairs where they’d deposited their belongings. After a minute, he picked up his freezing shirt and slipped it back on before exiting the pool.

***

Liam was afraid that there might be some lingering awkwardness the next day, but it appeared those worries were unfounded. Zayn came in at lunch, same as always, and greeted Liam cheerfully. Apologized profusely again for being such a jerk. Invited him to go for coffee that afternoon, even. Liam accepted with some relief, glad that Zayn still wanted to be in his presence, despite…whatever it was he had seen last night. Maybe having Liam clothed was kind of a deal breaker for their friendship. The only two times Liam had been seen shirtless—the first being the morning after a harsh beating—had ended with Zayn being less than happy. So, new rule for Liam, just to be safe: never remove your shirt in front of Zayn. Glad that was behind them.

Only, maybe not.

“What happened between you and Zayn last night?” Niall inquired innocently, handing over half his sandwich to Liam after Zayn left.

Liam flinched. “What?” That sounded far more panicked than he’d hoped it would. He didn’t think anyone else had noticed the uncomfortable exchange between himself and Zayn, but maybe…

Niall now looked suspicious. “When you brought him in here to talk? He looked much happier when we were swimming. Was just wondering how you did that.” Niall took a bit of his sandwich without breaking his eyes away from Liam.

“O-oh.” Right. Good. This was a safe topic of conversation that did not make Liam want shrivel into nonexistence. He pinched his lips together thoughtfully and lifted one hand palm-up to indicate his uncertainty. “W-we just talked, and eventually he c-calmed down.”

Niall had just opened his mouth to respond when Louis and Harry entered the room, giggling and shoving each other playfully. Harry nodded in greeting when he caught sight of Niall and Liam. “What’s up?”

“Nothing, Liam was just telling me how he put Zayn in such a good mood yesterday,” Niall responded, and Louis and Harry suddenly looked interested. Liam hadn’t realized this was such a topic of intrigue. He literally hadn’t done anything useful.

“Oh yeah, how _did_ you pull that off?” Louis wanted to know. “That one time he got in an argument on the phone with his dad, Harry tried to talk him down and…” Louis made a wild movement that involved both arms. Liam looked at him blankly.

“I thought Zayn was going to eat me,” Harry translated cheerfully and plopped down beside them. “Dude does not take well to reassurance when he’s mad.”

Liam made a small _mmm_ of agreement. Vast understatement.

“I was surprised Niall let you go off with him,” remarked Louis, sitting down on Harry’s lap and tilting his head onto his shoulder. “Since you. You know. Generally flee at the first sight of anger.”

Liam would be offended if that wasn’t so blatantly true. Niall, predictably, threw Liam an apologetic look. Liam shrugged it off.

“Kudos for making him chill the fuck out, though,” Harry congratulated. “However you did it. We just try to stay out of the way now.” He looked at Louis for confirmation, and Louis nodded his concurrence.

Niall’s lips quirked up in a small, slightly suggestive smile then, and Liam started awkwardly fooling with his shoelace, determined not to over-think this (any more than he already had).

***

“Y-you’re in a m-much better mood today,” Liam observed as he followed Zayn out to his car. Zayn had just arrived at Niall’s place to pick him up for their coffee excursion. Liam was grateful for the brief reprieve between work and hanging out—the filter room attic was getting stiflingly hot by the afternoon these days (luckily Louis had snuck a fan up there to make it bearable) and he’d had to spend the last half hour of work spraying insecticide into trashcans surrounded with swarms of bees. Needless to say, a shower was in order before Liam was fit for human interaction outside the park.

As they descended the stairs, Liam caught a whiff of Zayn’s cologne, which he’d never noticed before. Did Zayn usually wear that? Liam didn’t think so. Maybe he too had spent the last eight hours smelling of sweat and was taking extra care to banish the scent. Liam could relate.

“Yeah, things have kind of cooled down at home,” Zayn said cheerily, unlocking his car and pulling open the passenger door for Liam before going around to the driver’s side. 

Liam hummed happily and fastened his seatbelt.

“Thanks again for hanging out with me last night,” said Zayn for what Liam believed must be the eighth time today. “Even after I basically told you get out of my face. I generally like to be alone when I’m really upset. But,” Zayn added as an afterthought, “I also generally break stuff. So.”

Liam tried to suppress a giggle and failed. “Louis would p-push _you_ in the p-p-pool if you broke the c-card ta-able.” (And oh my god, did he just laugh like that in someone else’s company? Liam felt his cheeks heat.)

Zayn snorted, apparently unaware of Liam’s humiliation (Liam pursed his lips thoughtfully; maybe Zayn actually didn’t care…huh). “Probably, yeah. Guess it’s a good thing you were there.”

Liam thought on this for a moment. “W-why?” he finally decided to ask, because it seemed like a lot of people were giving him credit where credit was certainly not due. “I s-said nothing that w-was helpful.” He cast a frank sidelong glance at Zayn, challenging him to recall one successful attempt by Liam to calm him down.

“You were helpful,” Zayn insisted, taking his eyes off the road momentarily to meet Liam’s gaze. “I think it’s maybe just good to have someone else there. Like, most people turn tail the moment you say something even marginally nasty, and then you have time to stew over whatever it is that’s bugging you. And you consequently break shit.

“Unless of course that other person is Liam Payne,” Zayn went on, grinning now, and Liam fought the urge to hide his face in his hands, “who just stands there being so fucking _reasonable_ and  _understanding_ , and you can’t even say anything mean without wanting to punch yourself in the face because he’s got these ridiculous puppy dog eyes—“ Liam actually did hide in his hands now “—that make everyone fall in love with him—“

“Shut up!” Liam protested, trying to hide his smile behind his hands. “Stop.”

Zayn cackled now, in a way that told Liam he’d been spending way too much time around Danielle. “I knew that would get you. Seriously, though,” and he did look much more serious now, “it really just helps to have someone listen for once. So thanks for that.”

Liam considered this explanation in silence until they reached the coffee shop, and it seemed Zayn was content to wait for him to process it all. They waited in line for what seemed like forever behind a pack of babbling teenage girls, and Zayn covertly suggested that maybe they should take their drinks outside. Liam immediately agreed.

Fifteen minutes later found Liam outside sitting cross-legged on a wicker chair, sipping a smoothie (because he had no idea what anything else on the menu was—and he wasn’t even going to try saying “frappucino” out loud in public, regardless of what was in it) while Zayn nursed an iced tea and picked at a muffin.

“Thanks for th-the smoothie,” Liam said (Zayn, for some reason, had absolutely insisted that he pay for Liam’s beverage. Liam wondered whether he knew how pinched Liam was for cash, and decided it must be pretty obvious from the fact that his bed was still a couch in someone else’s apartment.)

“Of course,” said Zayn. “Good choice. I don’t see how anyone could drink coffee when it’s this hot out.”

Liam pointed out that not everyone had spent the last seven hours next to a fryer in an un-airconditioned shack; Zayn conceded to this fact, taking the opportunity to grip good-naturedly about how inhumanely his father treated his employees.

“So what are you going to do this fall when the park closes?” Zayn asked, swirling his ice around with a straw.

Liam shrugged. “Dunno, really. Work s-s-somew-where else, I guess.”

“Still going to live with Niall, then?”

Liam nodded.

“I’m guessing you can’t really count on your parents for helping to pay with school?” Zayn said dismally.

A shake of the head.

The corners of Zayn’s mouth pulled down in a displeased frown. “What about scholarship, or financial aid or something?”

Liam took a deep breath. “N-not sure if I c-can get scholarship, s-since I won’t be co-oming in as a freshman. Financial aid…” Liam trailed off hopelessly. He wasn’t even sure how he would go about applying for that sort of thing.

“Hey,” Zayn regained Liam’s attention gently. “Sorry, I know that’s probably really stressful. We can talk about something else.”

Liam nodded gratefully and asked about his transfer plans. Zayn launched into a lengthy explanation about transferrable credits and so on, and Liam was content to sit and listen. Inevitably, talking about English classes led Zayn to talking about books, and relating to Liam the tale of how he’d stumbled upon this great used book store last week, and how he was already halfway through, like, three of the novels he’d picked out.

“I’ll have to take you over there sometime,” Zayn concluded happily, taking a long sip on his tea. “It’s really quiet, and you meet some cool people when you’re in there. Odd, bookish types.”

“I c-could do quiet,” Liam joked, stealing a bit of Zayn’s muffin (he glanced up at Zayn to make sure it was okay, but Zayn just pushed it towards him invitingly). 

Zayn smirked. “Yeah, I thought that part at least would be right up your alley.”

When they’d finished their drinks, Zayn collected all their trash, went to deposit it in a waste receptacle, and led the way over to his car. On the ride home, Liam hijacked Zayn’s iPod and hooked it up to the auxiliary cord.

“I knew it was a good idea to introduce you to music,” Zayn declared pompously when Liam selected his favorite Nirvana song.

“M-my hero,” Liam said sarcastically, which earned him an indignant poke in the shoulder. “I m-mean, thank you,” he said more genuinely this time.

“You’re very welcome,” Zayn replied airily, then shot Liam an amused grin.

They pulled up outside Niall’s apartment complex a few minutes later, and Liam was slightly surprised when Zayn put the car in park and stepped out with him. Usually when he and Niall went out for dinner or films with Lou and Harry, they were dumped rather unceremoniously out on the sidewalk, Louis hardly even bothering to bring the car to a full stop. Liam had to admit, this was a nice change.

“Th-this was fun,” he told Zayn sincerely. Then tentatively suggested, “W-we should d-do it again soon.” Not that he didn’t enjoy hanging out around the apartment or over at Zayn’s house (really, anything Zayn wanted to do, Liam would do with him), but there was something thrillingly normal about going out for coffee with a friend. This was something Liam hadn’t been able to do with anyone since Niall in high school, and he wanted to do it more often. If Zayn wanted to as well, of course. He tried not to look too hopeful.

But Zayn lit up at the idea. “You think so? That’s…that’s _awesome_ , Liam.”

Liam was a bit taken aback at the enthusiasm of this response. “Really?” he blurted, because…why was _Zayn_ so excited about it?

“Yeah,” Zayn assured. “I mean, I wasn’t really sure about it for the longest time, but Harry and Lou kept dropping all these hints. But I didn’t want to freak you out, you know? Just in case they were wrong.”

Okay, now Liam officially _was_  freaked out. He’d apparently not had a full understanding of what was going on. Still didn’t, if he was being honest. What was Zayn afraid would freak him out? Was it too late to ask? Probably, since whatever it was had already happened, according to Zayn. Liam was very confused, and his insides felt twisted up with anxiety. Just when he’d thought he had a pretty good grasp on the whole friendship thing, the rug was jerked out from under him again. Before he could even try to wrap his mind around what was happening, Zayn was already plowing on.

“But Louis kind of flat-out told me that I should probably just go for it. Which normally I wouldn’t listen to, because it’s Louis and he can get ahead of himself, but he said Harry was totally in agreement. And after last night, I didn't think I could make myself wait any longer, 'cause you're just. Really wonderful.”

Zayn shrugged and smiled his most dazzling smile and oh no, now it was Liam’s turn to talk. He was still stumbling to catch up with what was going on, but there had already been about five beats of silence and things had been going so well that Liam couldn’t really find it in himself to ruin things by demonstrating (again) how totally inept he was at human interaction. So, he lied.

“Y-yeah,” Liam started cautiously. “I-I’m glad we…” He waved an arm to indicate…well, he wasn’t sure what he was indicating, but Zayn was already nodding enthusiastically, so he must have pulled it off okay.

Zayn was positively beaming now, and Liam was struck again by how insanely, unfairly pretty his eyes were. “Me too, I had a great time."

And then Zayn was leaning in and Liam didn’t even have time to react before there were lips pressed against his and _oh_.

Something in Liam’s brain seemed to have short-circuited. His only coherent thoughts were a repeated mantra of _oh shit, oh shit, oh shit_ , because nothing like this had ever happened to him before, and he had no idea what to do. What did one do, when one was kissed? Presumably there should be some participation on Liam's part, and yet he was just standing here, frozen as a statue. And while Liam was on the subject, who had ever heard of a nineteen year old that had never been kissed? Who didn't even realize that being asked out for coffee meant he was going on his first date? The cologne, and the paying for Liam's stuff...Dear sweet Jesus, he was such a freak, he couldn’t even recognize a _date_ when he saw one. Couldn't even handle his first kiss properly. He thought, ridiculously, that someone should have _warned_ him that this was going to happen, because this was Zayn and this was the pinnacle of what Liam had wanted since they’d met and now he’d screwed it up—

And now Zayn was pulling back, frowning, and Liam was staring at him with fearful eyes and a mouth hanging slightly open (still couldn’t control the muscles in that whole area of his face, apparently).

“Liam, I—“ Zayn broke off when Liam started shaking his head in total disbelief at his own stupidity and uselessness. Humiliation coursed through him like a piping hot river and his throat involuntarily emitted a pitiful squeaking noise. Liam started backing away; it would be unbearable to hear Zayn’s rejection now, now that he’d really seen how much of a wreck and a child Liam was.

Liam stumbled over his own feet as he turned on his heels and practically sprinted to the staircase. He heard Zayn calling after him, but ignored it, desperate to just. Get. Away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay. This was the first chapter where I didn't have any of it written out before posting the previous chapter. Also sorry for mistakes, I haven't been in touch with my beta for a while but I thought I'd made you wait too long to postpone further (but if you're looking for something to read in the meantime, she's teamfreeaweseome on here and she's really wonderful). Also sorry for the cliffhanger. Again (I'm the worst, I know). Also, I've left Liam in a bit of a mess, I know. But the only realistic way I could conceive for his first romantic situation involved a lot of panicking, so. Ta-da (hides behind wall to avoid readers flinging rotten tomatoes). Couple of questions for you guys (sorry this author's note is turning into a chapter length piece in itself)
> 
> 1) What did you think of me pulling back the curtain a bit more on Zayn's issues/insecurities? I feel like in hurt/comfort pieces there's kind of this mold where one character is the primary object of both hurt and comfort (here, of course, being Liam) but I also always like to see what that most-vulnerable character is contributing to the relationship, so it feels more realistic and balanced? That was kind of my intention this chapter (and I was slightly reassured it was the right move by medusianAllure's last comment) but just in general, how did people feel about it, so I can adjust the dynamic (or leave it) as necessary?
> 
> 2) On a scale of 1 to 10, how devastated would everyone be if there wasn't an explicit sex scene in this story? I always planned to maybe have some implied sex in the epilogue, because, honestly? Liam is just getting comfortable with hugs and (maybe) some cuddles. I foresee sexy times only in his way distant future. But it seems like sex scenes are pretty much par for the course in 1D stories (as far as I can gather from scrolling through the fandom), and you guys have been so incredibly lovely that I would hate for you to finish this story feeling unsatisfied or disappointed. So. I've never written a sex scene before, but I will strongly consider it if you guys really want one (granted, it will be the most fluffy, shmoopy sex ever). Feel free to be honest.


	7. Part 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the shortness. excuses/explanations offered in the notes

Liam fumbled with the doorknob of Niall’s apartment for several seconds before he managed to _actually_ turn it to let himself in. The fact that his hands were slick with sweat and trembling violently was sort of impeding his dramatic getaway. But he didn’t hear Zayn following him, so that was a plus.

Liam rushed into the room, panting like a madman and letting the door swing shut rather loudly behind him. Niall jerked up from where he had been dozing on the couch to look blearily around. “Liam?” Niall squinted at him, obviously still partially asleep, but Liam was already headed for the bedroom. Just after he slammed and locked it, he heard Niall’s surprised, “Liam!”

Liam wasn’t entirely sure why he was locking his roommate out (undoubtedly Niall was the only person on Earth who could feasibly talk Liam down from this state of panicked insanity). Only, Liam didn’t really feel like he could maintain what vestiges of his sanity that _did_ remain if he had to interact with another human being right now. He needed time to collect himself. Liam decided that the healthiest course of action was probably to fling himself onto Niall’s bed and wrap the covers around his body in a protective cocoon, anguishing over his pathetic existence alone.

So that’s what he did for the next several hours. After about twenty minutes, Niall had stopped calling and pounding his fists on the door. Liam had breathed a quiet sigh of relief until he heard Niall pacing back and forth in the living room and then a curt, “Zayn, it’s Niall.” Liam curled up tighter and tried pushing a pillow over his exposed ear to block out the sound. It was a minimally successful maneuver. “Liam came home _freaking out_. I know he was hanging out with you this afternoon. You wanna tell me what the fuck happened?” A short pause followed, during which Zayn attempted to say his bit, but Niall cut him off, “—No, it really _is_ my business. You tell me what you did to him right _now_ or so help me—Zayn!” Liam assumed the line must have disconnected because Niall muttered a curse but all dialogue was discontinued after that.

Niall seemed content to give Liam his space for the remainder of the evening. Liam took advantage of that space by mentally abusing himself, regretting every part of the last several hours, contriving plans to never see Zayn again for the rest of his life, and, despite it all, simultaneously wretchedly wishing that Zayn were with him now. It was rather tragic knowing how excellent a source of comfort Zayn was, when what Liam really needed was to be comforted about his avoidance of Zayn. Tragic, and stupidly ironic.

Liam was pretty sure this was the second-most miserable he’d ever been in his entire life. And this time, he could take no refuge in the knowledge that he couldn’t have prevented the let-down. With his mother, Liam at least _knew_ that it was _reasonable_ to expect his mother to love him. He couldn’t have avoided disappointment there (and there had never been much hope in the case of his father to begin with, had there?). But it was Liam’s own damn fault for getting his hopes up that maybe he and Zayn could ever be…what Liam wanted. It was a stupid fantasy, and Liam must have really let himself get caught up in it, for it to take a _kiss_ to remind him all the reasons it would never actually work. All the reasons that he could never possibly be good enough for Zayn Malik.

Well, Liam was thoroughly reminded now. He dug his fingernails into the skin of his arms, feeling strangely itchy and hot inside, and wishing nothing more than to just scratch up all of himself, to just escape being Liam Payne for a little while. _Pathetic,_ was the word that kept playing on repeat in his mind. _Pathetic, pathetic, pathetic_. He could not banish from his mind the image of Zayn’s look of surprise and disappointment when Liam had pulled away. Liam muffled a quiet sob into Niall’s pillow, hating himself for having so successfully duped Zayn into somehow liking him, only to inevitably let it fall apart because of his own incompetency. In a way, Liam felt, this was worse than Zayn never having wanted to kiss him at all.

Of course, eventually Niall could no longer take Liam’s solo moping. Liam heard Niall picking the lock (and felt like an asshole for not just letting him in, but not enough to actually drag himself out of bed) before the door creaked open.

“Hey,” murmured Niall when he saw that Liam’s eyes were still open.

“Hi,” Liam tried to say back, but his voice was so hoarse that no sound came out. Niall stepped into the bathroom and brought Liam a glass of water before sitting down on the bed next to Liam, and pulling him close.

“What’s up?” Niall combed his fingers through Liam’s hair. Liam considered briefly how it was starting to grow out a bit again, and that he would need Niall to shear it off before long.

Liam shrugged. After lying in essentially the same position for nearly three hours, he was both physically and emotionally numb. The biting pain of his disastrous screw up with Zayn had dulled to a deep, painful throbbing in his chest, but Liam still wasn’t sure whether he could reopen that wound in conversation just yet.

“Come on, Li,” Niall coaxed with an underlying firmness to his tone that reminded Liam of the several discussions they’d already had this summer about Liam being honest and not keeping things bottled up. Damn Niall for his inexhaustible concern.

“I’ll t-tell you,” Liam promised. “Just. N-not now, Niall. Please.”

Niall seemed to consider for a minute. “Okay,” he agreed. He patted Liam on the arm. “You…want me to call in sick for you tomorrow?”

In the spirit of full disclosure, Liam hadn’t been looking forward to work the following day. But on the other hand, if he agreed to let Niall fake an illness for him, Niall would definitely know that Liam’s abrupt spiraling sadness was Zayn-related, and who knew what type of harmful chivalry his best friend might engage in then, when Liam wouldn’t be around to make him see reason?

As a compromise, Liam said, “Yeah, that’d b-be good. But Z-Zayn's not...he didn’t do anything, oka-ay? So don’t…” He allowed Niall to mentally fill in the blanks.

“Okay,” Niall conceded slowly, and Liam could tell he was mentally dissecting every piece of what Liam'd just said for careful analysis. Liam couldn’t find it in himself to care. He just slipped back into his distressed silence while Niall attempted to offer nonverbal moral support, and fell asleep sometime later with Niall's hands still carding through his hair. 

***

The next morning, Liam awoke around noon to find Niall already gone (he’d kindly allowed Liam to crash in his bed last night, though sleep had eluded Liam until nearly four a.m.) and his phone lit up with an incoming text. Liam groaned, smashing his face back into the pillow, willing himself to read the message. It was just too obvious who it would be from, and Liam would almost rather heave his phone out the window then see what was written on the screen.

Inevitably, he couldn’t stand the tension and flipped open his phone.

_From Zayn: hey i dont want to assume too much but i think ur not at work today because of me. so i just wanted to let u know that if u would prefer i not hang around at lunch anymore, i totally understand. really sorry about everything_

Liam blinked in confusion. Zayn was sorry? Zayn was offering not to hang out with them anymore? That didn’t make any sense. _Liam_ was the freak. He was the one who’d finally revealed how horrible he was at being a functional human. How unworthy he was of Zayn’s affections.

So he typed, _To Zayn: Not your fault, don’t worry about it. I’m sorry too_ and, hours later, still got no response. Liam estimated that was probably for the best.

***

Over the course of the next two days, Niall attempted several tactics to get Liam out of his bed, but none proved successful. Liam couldn’t even feel guilty, because Niall was the one enabling him by feeding Simon a string of excuses regarding Liam’s fake illness, which apparently was getting more severe by the day. “I’m giving you a few days to recuperate,” Niall justified, “from…whatever this is. But that doesn’t mean I want you moping in my bed the whole time. Go take a walk. Realign your chi, or whatever.”

Okay, so maybe Liam felt a little guilty for taking advantage of Niall’s pity. Niall’s bed really wasn’t big enough for the two of them, and the sleepy circles under Niall’s eyes were starting to show it. Also, Liam could _smell_ himself now, which meant that Niall most _certainly_  could, and probably had for at least the past twenty-four hours. Liam resolved to take a shower on the third day, but only barely managed to dress himself before collapsing back in bed. When Niall got home from work, he had a determined, disapproving look on his face.

“I know,” Liam said into the pillow, trying to stay the lecture until at least dinner time.

Niall wasn’t having it. He didn’t get mad, but crawled into bed with Liam and sniffed the air dramatically. “Thank god,” he said, Liam supposed in reference to his renewed cleanliness. “I’ve been sneak-spraying the room with Febreeze and Axe while you were asleep, but it wasn’t helping.”

Liam turned to give him an incredulous look. Niall shrugged unapologetically. “It had to be done,” he defended. Then, “Now I can finally wash the sheets. If you can manage to extricate yourself from them for the evening.” He threw a pointed look at Liam.

“S-sorry,” Liam mumbled, curling up on his side so that his forehead was pushed against Niall’s hip. Niall reached down to resume his habitual stroking of Liam’s hair.

“’s okay,” he said, more gently now. “You know I really don’t care, but. I think you should probably tell me what’s wrong now, yeah?” Liam was still on the fence, until Niall said, “You’ve officially been in this room exactly as long as you were after your parents kicked you out.” Liam closed his eyes tightly. “Whatever's upsetting you…can it possibly be worse than that?” Niall sounded sincere in his question, like he was truly afraid that something so dreadful could have happened to Liam again without his knowledge.

“No,” Liam admitted, feeling almost a bit silly now that Niall compared his current stint of brooding to his first few days living in the apartment.

“So?” Niall prompted.

Liam exhaled, reaching up to pick at a loose thread on the pillowcase. “Zayn, um. W-we…he…” Liam pushed the heels of his hands into his eyes miserably because even just thinking about it made him want to peel his own skin off. Let alone saying it aloud. “No,” he protested pitifully, not completely sure who or what he was rebuffing. “It’s j-just…I’m s- _so_ _stupid_.”

“No, you’re not,” Niall countered reasonably.

“It’s n-not even th-that big a deal, is the th-thing,” Liam tried to explain.

“Well, clearly that’s a load of bullshit.”

Liam kind of wanted to punch someone in the face (himself or Niall, he couldn’t be sure). But he settled for moaning and turning so that he was lying face-down against the pillow instead. Liam knew that this wasn’t the most polite of ways to end a conversation, but oh well.

Niall was silent for a few moments, and then reached down to pat Liam on the head before standing up. Liam curiously lifted his head a few inches off the pillow; was that all? Evidently it was, because Niall was heading for the door. Liam was both disappointed for the loss of company and relieved for not having to explain himself. When he heard the front door open and close, Liam wondered if Niall was simply fed up with his sulking. He probably couldn’t stand to be in the apartment under Liam’s metaphorical raincloud any longer. Liam felt something inside himself shrivel at the thought.

He owed Niall something big for putting up with all this, and decided that he should probably go back to work tomorrow, even though this resolution filled Liam with nothing but pure, unadulterated dread. He dug his fingers back into the flesh of his arm at the idea of inadvertently crossing paths with Zayn. _Stop thinking about it,_ he ordered himself.

In the meantime, Liam decided (firmly avoiding all thoughts of—nope. He wasn’t going to think about it) he would simply have to apologize when Niall returned. Probably cook dinner as a peace offering. Something with mashed potatoes. And then he could get through work tomorrow and the next day and every day after that carefully avoiding Zayn until the end of the summer. A shitty plan, Liam could admit, but it was really the only option he had.

Niall, it seemed, had other ideas. Liam was just thinking that he should probably detach himself from this mattress before falling back asleep and go to start dinner when he heard the front door open. Liam rolled over, ready to greet Niall with an apology if he entered the bedroom, but his breath hitched uncomfortably when someone else pushed the door open. Zayn stood awkwardly over the threshold while Liam just stared at him from the bed in surprise, totally at a loss as to how to react.

“Hey,” Zayn said warily without moving from his position at the doorway.

“Hey,” Liam unintentionally whispered and cleared his throat to try again. “Hi.”

“Can I come in?”

Liam nodded and pushed himself out of bed. If he was going to have to face this conversation, he wasn’t going to do it lying down.

Zayn took a few cautious steps forward, stopping a few feet away from Liam. “Niall made it very clear that I’m only allowed in here as a last resort because he’s afraid you’re going to grow roots in his bed.”

Liam couldn’t find it in himself to laugh. Zayn sighed. “He’s…definitely mad at me for, ah, this.” Zayn looked uncertainly around at the room, making it clear that he didn’t entirely know what ‘this’ was, and Liam was silently grateful for Niall not having disclosed the full extent to which Liam had let himself go for the last three days. When was the last time he’d eaten? Liam couldn’t remember.

“And I guess I understand that,” Zayn continued. “It was probably my fault for springing that on you, when you obviously didn’t, um.” Zayn cleared his throat uneasily. “I just wanted to say I’m sorry. I should have been clearer about my intentions the other day. The last thing I ever want to do is scare you, but,” Zayn lifted his hand to Liam and looked at him with a _well, we see how that turned out_ expression.

“S-sorry I freaked ou-out,” Liam mumbled.

“No it’s—I thought, uh.” Zayn winced awkwardly. “God, this is so embarrassing.” Zayn wiped a hand over his face. “I must’ve been totally misreading the signs, ‘cause I was like, ninety-nine percent sure that you liked me, too. And Lou and Harry and even _Niall_ sometimes were hinting, and I could have sworn that there must be _something_. But that’s my fault for assuming too much—“

“I _do_ l-like you,” Liam interjected, and then flinched and clapped a hand over his mouth, unable to believe he’d just uttered those words.

Zayn gaped. “What?” he sputtered.

“ _I like you_ ,” Liam annunciated through his fingers, utterly mortified. “A l-lot. Since for-fore-ever.” He fidgeted nervously with his fingers and his tongue suddenly felt very dry.

A faint “oh” was all Zayn could manage in reply. Then he cocked his head to the side quizzically and started, “But then…why…? I don’t understand,” he admitted.

Lim steeled himself to make one of the most humiliating admissions he’d ever had to verbalize, “I d-didn’t know that y-you liked me until…until you k-kissed me?” Liam clasped his hands together and tried to fortify himself against the hot wave of embarrassment permeating his body. “Because. Um. Y-you’re the f-first person who ev-ever…” He moved his hand back and forth between his and Zayn’s chests, and when that didn’t seem to get the message across, conceded to say, “ _l-liked_ me, so…”

Zayn scrunched up his nose and at first Liam thought it was in distaste, but then realized that Zayn simply looked incredulous. “What?” he said.

Liam looked at him desperately, loath to repeat himself.

“You’re serious,” said Zayn slowly, and Liam grudgingly nodded. “So you never…” Liam nodded again, shoulders hunched, eyes down. “Ever? Anything? With anyone?” Liam bit his lip and felt a burning lump in his throat. “ _Shit_.”

Liam wondered if he just stood here long enough Zayn would just leave him be (when he heard footsteps, he was a-hundred-and-twelve percent sure that’s what was about to happen). Instead, a pair of sneakers entered his line of vision, and Liam was surprised into looking up. His mouth nearly fell open when he saw the tender, affectionate look in Zayn’s eyes. He was  _smiling_. 

“How did I get so lucky?” he said quietly, and Liam’s mouth did fall open now in total disbelief.

Zayn chuckled and used a finger to push on the bottom of Liam’s chin and close his mouth with a _click_. Liam gnawed at his lower lip. “Liam, it’s kind of adorable that you’ve never kissed anyone before,” Zayn informed him fondly. “And I’m honored you let me be your first. Well,” Zayn modified apologetically, “didn’t really _let_ …”

“I w-w-wanted to,” Liam said hastily. “I _did_. J-just…” He shrugged. This was by far the most painful conversation he’d ever endured. “I th-thought it -  _I_ was pathetic. And I w-would do s-so-omething wrong and y-you would hate it—me—“

“ _Liam_ ,” Zayn interrupted. “Have you honestly been beating yourself up over _that_ for _three days_?”

Liam hung his head, which he supposed was probably answer enough.

“ _Leeyum_ ,” Zayn said, reaching up with one hand to pull at his own hair in sheer exasperation. “You’re such—you just—you big… _dummy_!” Liam gaped and even Zayn laughed at his own lack of eloquence. “Sorry. That’s just so… _dumb_. I could never hate you over something like that. And I’ll never hate kissing you.” Liam found at least the second part a little impossible to believe. His face must have said so, because Zayn went on, “Liam, I told you that I like you. I really, _really_ like you.” Zayn raised his eyebrows like he was waiting for Liam to catch on.

Liam felt his chin wrinkle with displeasure and sadness, because _really_ , “How _c-could_ you?” He didn’t really mean to say it out loud, but since it was out there now, “I-I’m not… L- _Look_.” Liam made a gesture to indicate Zayn’s general beauty. “And.” Then gestured reluctantly to himself. “You’re s-so…and I’m j-just…” Liam closed his eyes and forced his mouth to form the word. It felt physically painful to wrap his lips around it: “nothing.”

Liam felt a hand cup his cheek and he opened his eyes miserably to see a Zayn who looked, for lack of a better word, devastated.

“Liam. Babe.” Something in Liam cracked at the term of endearment and he jammed his lips together determinedly, as though that might keep him from splintering apart. “You have no idea…” The corners of Zayn’s mouth turned down. “You actually have no idea,” he repeated with both realization and sorrow. “Which is really too bad, because I promise, Liam Payne, that you are _everything_ that I want.” Before Liam could hide himself with the collar of his shirt, Zayn leaned forward to plant a kiss on his forehead. Liam blushed furiously and Zayn grinned.

“B-but the other night,” Liam insisted, still not totally convinced. “When I w-was s-s-swimming, and y-you saw…”

“Your hot shirtless body glistening with water?”

Zayn said this so matter-of-factly and with such an infuriating little smile on his face that Liam squeaked out an “oh my god,” wrapped both arms around his torso, and fought to remain upright. Seeing him pale with horror, Zayn reached forward to grab Liam’s shoulders and steady him. “Sorry, sorry,” he said guiltily (but not so much, Liam noticed grumpily, that the smile had entirely vanished from his face). “I think compliments are your kryptonite.”

Liam nodded dazedly, feeling adrift without compass or paddle. He looked to Zayn for some semblance of direction.

“But I _do_ want to kiss you,” said Zayn, attempting to get them back on track and tactfully allowing Liam to recover. “Seriously, it’s not just the attractiveness—“ Liam emitted a strangled noise from the back of his throat and clapped his hands over his face, because he’d thought they were done with this part of the conversation. Zayn pried them off with some amusement. “—but also ‘cause you’re just… _you_. It’s like… I said it before. You’re just really wonderful. Should I give you another List?” he challenged. Liam shook his head vigorously; much more and he might disintegrate. “Then you’ll just have to take my word for it. _And_ ,” Zayn went on, smiling in a way that made Liam’s stomach’s do flip-flops, “everyone learns how to kiss. You just need practice.” Zayn wiggled his eyebrows ridiculously and Liam batted him on the shoulder.

“W-with you?” Liam asked hopefully, for confirmation.

Zayn snorted. “’course with me. In fact.” Zayn reached up to frame Liam’s jaw with both his hands and leaned forward, but Liam jerked back automatically, fearfully.

“S-sorry,” he murmured, reddening.

Zayn’s lips parted and at first Liam thought he was going to say something reassuring in response, so he totally unprepared when Zayn quickly closed the space between them (which, now that Liam thought about it, might have been the point). Liam tried to get used to the sensation of someone else’s lips on his own (he had to admit, this all felt incredibly weird). But even when Zayn used his tongue to coax open Liam’s mouth, and he wasn’t entirely sure if what he was doing was even _close_ to what he was supposed to be doing, it was still kind of nice. Soft. Safe. He reached a hand up to fist in Zayn’s shirt to steady himself and struggled to get the hang of what was going on.

When they broke apart, Liam immediately hid his face in Zayn’s shoulder, fingers still curled around the fabric of the t-shirt. One of Zayn’s hands came to rest on Liam’s back, the other in his hair. “Liam, you’re _fine_ ,” he insisted, and Liam could hear the smile in his voice. “You’re okay, love.”

(Liam thought, for the first time since the day he’d met Zayn, that he might simply melt into a puddle right then and there. This time, though, he was glad for the feeling.)

“S-so…what now?” Liam asked, because embarrassment about his total lack of romantic experience notwithstanding, if this whole thing had taught him anything, it was that he should always ask for clarification where he needed it.

Zayn scratched his jaw. “I think now’s the part when I ask you to be my boyfriend,” he answered informatively.

“Oh,” Liam said rather faintly. “And what…” Now that he was here, in the moment he’d secretly, guiltily imagined so many times, Liam was extremely hesitant. He wanted to make sure whatever Zayn expected of him, he would be able to do it right. He’d seen relationships from the outside before, but he’d never actually considered the specific requirements of participants. “What d-does that inv-volve, exactly?”

Liam was worried that Zayn might think him being sassy or coy, but he fortunately took the question with all its necessary seriousness. “Well, that kind of depends on what you want it to involve,” he said, rubbing thoughtfully up and down Liam’s spine. “We’ll take things slowly, of course. But I was thinking…probably more cuddles. And more dates with lots of hand-holding and feeding each other food. You know, the whole bit. And kissing.” Zayn shrugged. “And I can ogle you more now without feeling guilty about it.”

Liam coughed awkwardly. “Okay. B-but would you w-want…” His mind drifted to Louis and Harry and Niall’s casual comment about them sucking each other’s dicks on a regular basis.

“I want whatever _you_ want to do,” Zayn affirmed. “Slow, remember? But that also means you have to tell me what you want.” Zayn raised his eyebrows expectantly and Liam took that as his cue.

“That—k-kissing. And…and cuddling and holding h-hands,” Liam made himself say, trying not to be overcome with self-consciousness. He took Zayn’s hand experimentally and saw him smile.

“You’re doing much better with the whole…touching people thing,” Zayn commented, looking down at their hands contemplatively and giving Liam a reassuring squeeze.

“ _Mmm-hmm_ ,” Liam mused. “’s nice.” He looked up to catch Zayn’s gaze. “I d-do like it,” he stated tentatively, since he already felt totally exposed, open and vulnerable, from the rest of the conversation, and Liam wasn’t sure he’d be able to voice this confession again for a long time. “I just…n-not a lot of, um. Exp-p-perience, with th-this…sort of thing? No one ev-ver…yeah. So. M-makes me n-nervous, s’all.”

Zayn watched him for a long moment with that familiar look that made Liam feel like he was being picked apart and scrutinized. But in the end, all Zayn said was, “Okay. Duly noted,” and Liam breathed a sigh of relief. Zayn dropped another kiss onto Liam’s lips, oh-so casual about making Liam’s heart leap in his chest, then pulled out his phone to shoot off a text. “I’ve told Niall it’s safe to come home. You should probably tell him what’s what before he combusts out of concern for your mental stability.”

Liam huffed out a laugh because yeah, he was probably right. 

***

“Is this gonna be a thing, now?” Niall said the next day, looking at the ceiling rather than anyone in particular. “Everyone is in the _I like dudes_ club except me?” He took this opportunity to shift his gaze to each of them individually—Louis and Harry, where they were seated in one chair, and Liam and Zayn, who were sitting in their usual spot against the wall (though Liam was now comfortably able to rest his head on Zayn’s shoulder, which was an awesome development, if you asked him).

“That appears to be the case, yes,” Harry replied formally.

Niall scooted his chair away from Louis and Harry. “Am I going to catch the gay?” he said with affected concern.

“Psh. You should be so lucky,” Louis snorted and made a flamboyant show of sweeping his hair out of his eyes.

“ _Hmmph_ ,” Niall grunted. “Everyone here likes dudes,” he noted again, “and _nobody_ has so much as made a pass at me. Or even attempted to ‘accidentally-’” here he added air quotes “-touch my ass. Frankly, gentlemen, I’m feeling a bit unloved.”

“Aw, Nialler,” Louis cooed, and sprung from Harry’s lap to make a grab for Niall’s face with puckered lips. In his hasty effort to escape, Niall tipped his chair back. Undeterred, Louis attacked his crumpled form with sloppy kisses. Liam grinned into Zayn’s shoulder and felt fingers slide through the gaps between his own.

“You brought that on yourself,” Harry told Niall when he finally righted himself and managed to disentangle Lou from him.

“Thanks,” said Niall sarcastically, rubbing the back of his head. “Liam and Zayn are my favorite couple.” He stuck out his tongue at Louis.

“Whatever,” Louis dismissed. “I shipped Ziam way before either of you two caught on.”

“That,” Harry said calmly, “is simply not true. _I’m_ the one who pointed out to you that they totally had heart-eyes for each other like, the day we met Zayn.” Louis just shook his head, unwilling to hear reason.

“Z-Ziam?” Liam repeated.

“Yeah, it’s your celebrity couple name,” explained Louis, while Harry rolled his eyes in the background. “Ziam. Mayne or Palik, I can’t decide.”

“Interesting,” Zayn granted him.

“Want to hear ours? It’s preeeettty adorable,” Louis warned, as if for fear that Zayn and Liam might be jealous. “It’s _Larry Stylinson_. How perfect is that?”

“So perfect,” Zayn said, smirking at Harry.

When Lou looked back at his boyfriend, Harry hitched a smile on. “It’s super cute, Lou,” he assured. Louis looked suspiciously at Harry for a minute, as if trying to tell whether or not he was being patronized, and then apparently decided he didn’t care, sitting back down on Harry’s lap.

Zayn checked his watch. “Break’s over,” he said, squeezing Liam’s hand twice in quick succession before letting go and standing up. Liam followed suit.

“I’ll go, um. Ch-check the pool deck,” he said to the others and followed Zayn out of the room (ignoring their sarcastic _uh-huh'_ s and  _suuure'_ s and rather knowing smiles).

“So I was thinking,” Zayn began after Liam picked up a pan and broom, “we should go on a date. Like, a real one. Where you know you’re on a date.” Liam glanced over at his teasing smile.

“Okay,” he agreed. This seemed like the logical first step in their newly established romantic situation. He was a bit nervous about the whole going-on-a-date phenomenon, now that he actually _knew_ that it was going to be a date, but Zayn had promised that they would take things at Liam’s pace. Liam had warned him multiple times already that the pace would likely be _glacial_ , but Zayn seemed surprisingly okay with it.

(“Stop worrying,” Zayn had ordered the previous night as they gathered the ingredients for mashed potatoes and meatloaf on the counter—a thank-you to Niall for the past few days from Liam, and a peace offering from Zayn. “I just want to be with you. That’s all.”

When Liam tried to remind him that this was a rather bold statement to make fifteen minutes into dating him, Zayn had surprise-attacked him with another kiss, and Liam couldn’t trust his voice to make any protests after that.)

“Great,” Zayn said. “We could do the whole dinner-and-a-movie thing. It’s a bit cliché, but I think everyone should have to go on one at least once.”

“Yeah, th-that sounds nice.” Liam considered for a moment, then asked, “So wh-what should I wear, or…?”

“You don’t have to do anything special,” Zayn explained patiently.

Another great part of dating Zayn, Liam had come to understand: he was totally down with explaining every step of the romantic process like Liam was a third grader, meaning that Liam didn’t have to bumble through it on his own. Meaning that he didn’t see any more three-day spells of drowning himself in Niall’s bedclothes in the near future. All in all, things were looking up.

“Sounds goo-ood,” Liam agreed, since he didn’t really have any dress clothes anyway. It occurred to him that maybe he should invest in some.

“Awesome.” Zayn grinned enthusiastically.

They made plans for Zayn to pick up Liam at seven on Friday for their first official Liam-knows-it’s-a-date Date, and Liam tried to convince himself there was no reason to be anxious.

Of course, come seven o’clock on Friday evening, Liam had spent a grand total of forty minutes in the bathroom, picking at his hair and clothes, scrutinizing every aspect of his appearance. Ultimately, Niall physically relocated him to the living room because Liam couldn’t tear his eyes away from the mirror.

“You look fine,” Niall repeated for what must have been the dozenth time, picking up his sandwich off the coffee table and waving it dismissively in Liam’s general direction. “Zayn sees you every day, he knows what you look like.”

That...was a logical point. It didn’t make Liam feel any better, but it was true. Liam would grant Niall that.

“I’m nervous,” Liam said unnecessarily.

“I know,” Niall deadpanned. “That much has been established. What _you_ apparently fail to recognize is that there’s absolutely no reason to be. You’ve already got the guy. The hard part is over.”

Liam mulled that over. On the contrary, he thought, the hard part had just begun. Being friends with someone was--well, Liam wouldn’t exactly call himself well-practiced in it, but he had some experience with Niall, and if his ability to maintain friendships with Louis and Harry was any indication, he was decent at it. Liam still felt like he was bumbling through most of his social interaction but hey, fake it til you make it, right?

There really couldn’t be any faking it when it came to romantic situations, though. Well, Liam supposed there _could_ be, but openness was quite obviously the way to go (again, as evidenced by recent developments). Liam was certain there must be _some_ line he could cross, somewhere, that Zayn would just find totally unacceptable. Zayn could get irritated, probably more easily than most, it was just a fact. Liam never ceased to be surprised at Zayn’s apparently endless patience with him. Surely...surely Liam was no exception to the general rule of Zayn's temperament. And what if that time _did_ come when Zayn realized he’d made some disastrous error in judgment by dating Liam? Liam would be down twenty-five percent of his total close friend circle. The only people in the world (barring Niall’s parents, probably) that Liam could count on. What _then_?

“Liam, you are destroying my couch,” Niall announced. Liam looked down and realized he had indeed picked a hole through the fabric of the sofa while he’d been fiddling with its loose threads.

“Sh-shit. Sorry.” Liam forced his hands into his lap.

Niall shrugged. “Your bed, not mine.” He took a bite of his sandwich. “You’re obviously not listening to me, though.”

“What if Z-Zayn breaks up wi-ith me?” Liam asked plaintively.

Niall’s eyebrows shot up. “ _This_ is the question you ask before you go on your first date with him? Liam.” Niall’s eyebrows said _come on, dude_ , and Liam suddenly felt hot.

“I j-just don’t want t-t-to lose him,” Liam said, feeling downright pathetic now.

“Liam.” Niall waited until Liam would meet his eyes. “I can’t promise you that if you and Zayn broke up, things would be exactly the same as they were before. Romance...complicates things. _But_ \--” he went on when Liam opened his mouth, “--this thing between you and Zayn could be really good, I think. And I’m not gonna let you turn that down just because your scared. What kind of best friend would I be?”

 _A considerate one_ , was the retort that came to Liam’s mind, but one he didn’t voice because Niall was right. Stupid Niall, always being right.

“You know I’m right,” Niall said, as if to rub it in.

“I know,” Liam conceded.

“Well that’s good, because Zayn’s been outside for ten minutes.”

“ _What_?” Liam sprang to his feet.

“Calm down,” Niall said placatingly. “He texted me when he pulled up to ask if you were freaking out. I told him you were.”

Never mind, Niall was the worst best friend anyone had ever had the misfortune of having. Liam was going to strangle him.

“ _Because you were_ ,” Niall pressed on, sensing Liam’s mounting anxiety, “and you know what he said? That it was _fine_ and he would wait until I convinced you to pull yourself together.”

Liam opened his mouth and closed it again, unsure whether to be grateful or embarrassed. He compromised by being both.

"Well, go on," Niall encouraged, nudging him toward the door. "It's impolite, is what it is. Keeping people waiting on you for indefinite periods of time."

Liam scowled, but pulled Niall in for an awkward, stilted hug before slipping on his shoes and heading out. “Home by ten!” he heard Niall call just before the door slammed. Liam rolled his eyes and hurried downstairs.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this chapter is awkwardly short. The more I thought about the ending to the last chapter, the more I realized I was just the worst for leaving this un-updated for so long. But I'm heading into exams and wasn't sure when I'd be able to write out the next few thousand words, so. Didn't want to potentially wait another couple weeks. Sorry for the shortness. 
> 
> Also, ALL THE FLUFF AND SCHMOOP in this chapter. Reading it over I was like, "I feel like I need to go brush my teeth now." So hope it wasn't too much. I thought with all the angst in the last couple chapters (I realized Liam cried in BOTH the previous two chapters and was like...too much weeping. Too much.)
> 
> Also, I was blown away by your responses to the last chapter. Eeevveeryybody wants to talk about sex hahaha. But it seems the consensus is: sex scene not necessary. And I don't want to ruin a good thing (story) at the end with a poorly written bit. So maybe what I'll do is someday, when I'm confident I can write a good sex scene, I'll post it as a oneshot in the same "universe" and people can check it out. Or if someone else wants to write a sex scene for these characters, I'd gladly link to it. Whateva. 
> 
> Also, can I just mention how much I love how much you guys love Niall? I think we're like, one fluffy scene away from a fan club forming in the comments lol.
> 
> Thoughts? Your comments are always such excellent motivation to keep writing :)


	8. Part 8

Zayn was idly scrolling through something on his phone when Liam jogged up and knocked on the passenger side window. He looked up sharply, grinned at Liam, and unlocked the doors.

“Hey,” Zayn greeted, clearing some papers and his wallet off Liam’s seat. “How are you?”

Liam could tell he was aiming for blasé, but there was a distinct look of concern in Zayn’s eyes that made Liam’s heartbeat stumble…not altogether unpleasantly. “Good,” Liam said, mirroring Zayn’s casual attitude. “W-were you waiting l-l-long?”

“What? Oh, no,” Zayn said airily. “Just got here.”

Liam rolled his eyes. Because really, Zayn, bless him. “Yeah?” he inquired, the corners of his mouth involuntarily tugging up into a smile.

“Yeah, it’s like you’re psychic or something,” Zayn assured while he fumbled to organize his stray belongings on the back seat.

“Interesting. B-because Niall said you-ou’ve b-been here for ten min-inutes.” Zayn opened his mouth and nothing came out. Liam smirked. “Tha-anks for trying to sp-spare me, though,” he added, more sincerely.

“Niall,” Zayn sighed, like he should have been expecting it. “It’s often difficult to tell whether I hate the guy or love him.”

Too true, Liam thought.

“But you’re done freaking out,” Zayn concluded, dropping the ruse.

“Mostly,” Liam allowed. He felt a little entitled to the few butterflies still fluttering around in his stomach; it was his first date, after all. But for the most part, now that Liam was here, things almost felt normal. Just another day spent in Zayn’s company, like Liam had been practicing for this moment for the past seven weeks. As Zayn took his hand over the gearshift to give it a quick squeeze, Liam felt the last knots of anxiety loosening their hold on his chest.

“So,” Zayn said, “I thought we could go to dinner at this Italian place close to the theater. Harry recommended it to me.”

“Sounds good,” Liam agreed, picking at the hem of his shirt and imagining himself and Zayn eating spaghetti _Lady and the Tramp_ style. _Snap out of it_ , he told himself sternly, blushing.

“Yeah, he said it’s where he and Lou went on their first date, so I figured it must be good luck.” Zayn shrugged. Then glanced over at Liam sheepishly. “That’s kinda super corny, isn’t it?”

“In a g-good way,” Liam promised. As far as this relationship went, Liam could use all the good luck that came his way. “Wh-what movie?”

“I was thinking the new Iron Man movie would be cool,” Zayn said, with affected indifference. “Only if you want to see that, though. Figured since I’m choosing food you could pick the show. Just an idea.”

“I like Iron Man,” Liam said, glowing when he saw the cautious excitement on Zayn’s face.

“ _Awesome_ ,” Zayn enthused. “It’s been out for so long and I haven’t gotten to see it yet. I was afraid I’d have to wait until it came out on DVD but it’s still playing at one theater in town.”

Zayn said all this in such a rush that Liam had to refrain from laughing aloud. “Didn’t kn-know you were a s-s-super hero fan.”

“Well. Yeah, a bit.”

The way Zayn said “a bit” made Liam think it was maybe more like “a lot,” but he didn’t pry.

When they pulled into a parking spot outside the restaurant, Zayn yanked the key from the ignition and practically leapt from his seat to open the door for Liam, who allowed himself a giggle while he watched Zayn dash in front of the car. When Zayn jerked open his door, Liam climbed out and delicately reminded his date that he was, in fact, capable of opening doors.

“It’s the gentlemanly thing,” Zayn defended, locking the car. “And to make up for _not_ doing it when I picked you up.”

“You w-waited for ten min-nutes,” Liam reminded him, since that seemed to be more significant anyway.

Maybe _he_ should start making grand romantic gestures, Liam considered. Zayn was obviously a sucker for that sort of thing, even if he didn’t seem like it at first glance. But _how_ was the question. Liam didn’t know the first thing about making romantic gestures. What even qualified as romantic? What _was_ romance? How was he supposed to—

“Liam?”

Liam realized he’d actually paused in the motion of stepping towards the restaurant door and Zayn was looking back at him warily. Liam was psyching himself out. He took a deep breath and put on a smile. “Sorry,” he said, abashed. “J-just stuck ins-side my head.” He coughed out a self-conscious laugh and took a hesitant step toward Zayn, who held out his hand. Liam took it gratefully.

“No pressure,” Zayn gently reminded him. “Right?”

Liam inhaled deeply and let out a shaky exhale. “Right,” he confirmed, and allowed himself to be led into the restaurant by Zayn.

***

_“Disgusting.”_

_“Goeff, please—“_

_“What?”_

_Liam’s mother fixed her hair primly. “Not so loud. Please, we’re in public, dear.”_

_“Exactly. We’re in public. They want to sodomize each other in the privacy of their own home? By all means. But I don’t need to see_ that _while I’m trying to eat.”_

 _Liam curled in on himself and pushed his mashed potatoes around his plate, trying to ignore the rather unpleasant dinner conversation that had arisen at their table. It was the first time in…well, as long as Liam could remember, that his family had gone out to eat. It wasn’t the_ fanciest _restaurant in the world, but Liam had just graduated middle school and his mother wanted to go out for a special treat. And now Liam’s father was ruining it by talking too loudly and too unpleasantly about the people sitting in the opposite booth. Specifically, the two men holding hands over the table as they shared a dessert. Luckily, neither of them seemed to have taken notice of Liam’s father’s rudeness. Yet._

_“Disgusting,” his father declared again._

_Liam’s mother said nothing in return, seeming to hope that the situation would resolve itself and they could all finish their meal in peace._

_“Take a look, Liam,” his father went on, and Liam dug his nails into his thigh under the table, not looking up from his plate. “This is the fucked-up world we’re leaving to you and the rest of your generation. That’s when you really know things are going to the dogs—when you’ve got these kinds of people just…_ flaunting _their perversion in public. Faggots.”_

_Out of the corner of his eye, Liam saw one of the two men look over at their table. He felt a blush creeping up his neck and across his face, and wished it were socially acceptable to crawl under the table and hide._

_“If I ever hear you’ve been hanging around people like that,” Liam’s father began, and did not finish the threat. It wasn’t really necessary—Liam knew_ exactly _what would happen to him if he was ever caught fraternizing with such people. Liam wasn’t much worried, though; he didn’t interact with enough people to run the risk of cavorting with those types, anyway._

_Liam lifted a spoonful of mashed potatoes to his lips and tried to remember he was supposed to be enjoying himself._

***

Dinner with Zayn went off without a hitch. Liam didn’t knock over his water glass, trip on his way out of the booth to go to the bathroom, or do anything else to otherwise embarrass himself. Zayn did most of the work to sustain the conversation, as usual, but was conscientious about asking Liam questions. And he would occasionally take Liam’s hand and give it a light squeeze, or knock their knees playfully under the table as non-verbal reassurance, which Liam appreciated.

They didn’t end up sharing a noodle of spaghetti like Lady and the Tramp, but all in all, Liam thought it was a pretty good first dinner date. He was even lucky enough to snatch up the check while Zayn was in the bathroom (one gesture he knew was long overdue). Zayn griped about it when he got back to the table, and retaliated by purchasing their tickets and popcorn at the theater. Liam allowed it because Zayn was nearly vibrating with excitement over getting to see Iron Man, and he didn’t want to do anything that might bring his date down from that high.

Liam and Zayn were the only ones in the theater, so they chose seats in the middle and propped their feet up on the headrests of the chairs in front.

“Is this okay?” Zayn asked, moving the armrest between them up and out of the way. Liam nodded and tentatively scooted closer to Zayn, who smiled approvingly.

The movie was very exciting, very bright, and very loud. True to form, Liam had never been a fan of the noise factor involved with seeing movies in theaters, but it did help that he could tuck himself into Zayn’s side when things got excessively…explosive. Which happened a lot. Fortunately, Zayn was all to happy to loop an arm around Liam’s shoulders.

“That was awesome!” Zayn said with elation as they exited the theater. “I wonder how they’ll work with that ending, though, with the second Avengers movie coming up. Did you like it?”

Liam nodded eagerly. In truth, he’d found some bits hard to follow (he’d only gotten to see the two prequels when he checked them out from his high school’s library and hadn’t watched them since), but the film had been very exciting, and Liam was more than happy to stare at Robert Downey Jr. for two hours. He voiced as much to Zayn, which elicited a laugh.

“Thanks for going to see it with me,” Zayn said as they crossed through the lobby. “Sorry I can kind of geek out about that stuff. I used to be pretty obsessed with comic book heros.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.” Zayn rubbed the back of his neck. “I mean, honestly? I still like them a lot. I’ve got _boxes_ of comics up in my room.”

“C-can I see?” Liam had gotten to read few comics growing up (not shockingly, the ones stocked in his school’s library) because his father had seen them as a frivolous expenditure.

“What?” Zayn actually stopped in his tracks to look at Liam, who also stopped.

“I—uh, y-you. You d-don’t have to sh-show me…” Liam trailed off uncertainly. Maybe this was another one of Zayn’s private things, like singing, that he didn’t normally share with other people. Liam didn’t want to intrude.

“No, I—of course you can see them,” said Zayn fervently, taking Liam’s hand and leading the way out into the parking lot. “I was just surprised. Some people think it’s weird, you know. Reading comics at our age.”

Liam, who had no legs to stand on in regards to being weird in any respect, raised any eyebrow at Zayn, who conceded to his point by dropping the subject.

“It’s still pretty early,” Zayn said instead, whipping out his phone to check the time. “We could head back to my place and I could show—”

"Faggots."

The slur was muttered so casually and so quietly that at first Liam wasn’t even sure he heard it at all. But looking around, he found that it had originated from a couple of guys passing through the parking lot in the opposite direction. Liam hadn’t even noticed the men looking at himself and Zayn, but apparently their linked hands must have attracted attention. Liam felt a burning sensation in his throat as he heard his father’s voice chanting in the back of his mind: _Faggots, faggots, faggots._

 _Just ignore it,_ Liam thought, determined not to get entangled with these strangers and their unprovoked hatred. _Keep your head down, just let it be_.

But then, Liam must have forgotten who he was walking with, because it wasn’t until he was yanked backwards by the hand that Liam realized Zayn had halted.

“What the fuck did you say?”

“Zayn,” Liam pleaded under his breath, mustering all his courage to stand between Zayn and the two strangers, who had stopped and looked around. Zayn resolutely ignored Liam, looking over his shoulder with blatant malice in his eyes.

“Move it along, fairy boy,” one of the guys laughed, making a derogatory little shooing motion with one of his hands before turning away.

Zayn made to move around Liam, who put both hands on Zayn’s arms. “Zayn,” Liam pleaded, trying to keep the tremor out of his voice because _he_ was supposed to the calm, collected one here. When the fuck did that happen?

“ _Move,_ Liam.” Zayn pried Liam’s hands off with infuriating ease and attempted to sidestep him again.

“ _Zayn_.” Liam was startled by the sharpness of his own voice, and it must have cut through to Zayn, too, because he paused. Liam swallowed, unsure what to say now that he had Zayn’s attention other than, “Stop.”

Zayn smeared a hand down his face. “Liam…”

“You’ll…y-you’ll only regret it. L-later,” Liam said stiltedly. “It’ll j-just make you f-feel like shit.” _I know you_ , he thought.

Zayn kept his eyes locked on Liam for a long moment, and Liam tried not to let himself shrink under the hard stare. Then Zayn blew out a harsh exhale through his nose and looked once more at the retreating figures of the two men. “Come on,” said Zayn abruptly, jerking his head in the direction of the car. “Let’s go.” He took Liam’s hand, and Liam trailed after wordlessly. This time, their clasped hands felt less like Zayn wanted to offer comfort and more like he wanted to prove a point, and Liam was almost relieved when they broke apart to get in the car.

***

The whole car ride, Liam leaned his forehead against the window and watched the lights of houses and lampposts pass in silence. Zayn, too, was quiet. He didn’t even turn on the radio, which Liam took as a bad sign. Liam had presumed that the evening was over, so he was nothing short of shocked when they pulled into Zayn’s driveway—he doubted Zayn was still in the mood to show off his prized comic books—but he didn’t dare voice any questions just yet. They got out of the car in silence and Liam awkwardly followed Zayn up into his room, unsure of his place. Was Zayn angry with him for interfering? He couldn’t tell. There were too many ways to read Zayn’s cool demeanor.

Upstairs, Zayn flipped on the light and kicked off his shoes before flopping onto the bed. Liam toed off his own sneakers and warily watched Zayn settle himself into a sitting position against the headboard. “C’mere,” Zayn invited, and waved Liam over.

Liam shuffled over to the bed and let out a surprised “oof” when Zayn maneuvered them so that Liam was leaning with his back against Zayn’s chest. “This okay?” Zayn checked, looping his arms around Liam so that they rested on Liam’s stomach.

Liam self-assessed. It was a bit nerve-wracking, having the whole of Zayn pressed up behind him like this, but not unwelcome. He cautiously brought his hands up to lace through Zayn’s fingers and nodded jerkily. Mostly, he was just surprised. Was Zayn not still upset?

It seemed Liam would have to wait to find out. Zayn was content to sit, hum quietly, and occasionally drop kisses into Liam’s hair once he leaned his head back to rest on Zayn’s shoulder.

“Thanks for tonight,” Zayn finally said, right in Liam’s ear. “Sorry,” he tacked on when Liam startled.

Liam shrugged away the apology but said nothing in response. He didn’t have to ask what Zayn was referring to.

“It’s just—who _does_ stuff like that?” There wasn’t any real fire behind Zayn’s words now. Just…disappointment. Bitterness.

“My dad,” Liam said unthinkingly, and immediately wished he hadn’t. He heard Zayn’s breath catch and thought for a moment Zayn might say something to address this confession. Liam sincerely hoped he wouldn’t.

Luckily, “I had a really nice time, though, bigots notwithstanding,” Zayn went on, and Liam didn’t have to see the rueful smile on his face to know it was there.

“Me too,” Liam murmured. He patted Zayn’s hands reassuringly. “Glad I g-got to exp-exp-perience the whole d-dinner and a movie thing.”

“It’s a cornerstone of the teenage experience,” said Zayn.

“Good th-thing we met this year, otherw-wise I’d have m-missed out,” Liam said.

“That’s true,” Zayn agreed. “Almost twenty. Feel so old.”

Liam chuckled. “N-not _that_ old.”

“Two decades,” Zayn reasoned. “That’s a long time.”

“N-not even as l-l-long as _The S-Simpsons_ has been on TV,” Liam countered, just because he could.

“ _Liam_ ,” Zayn sighed with heightened exasperation and Liam stifled a laugh. “You’re ridiculous.” A pause. “I’ve known you, what, a month? Almost two?”

Liam nodded. “Two, say.”

“It feels like so much longer, though, doesn’t it?”

Liam contemplated that and decided yes, it did feel like much longer.

“It’s weird,” Zayn went on. “For the two months I’ve known you, there’s…six times nineteen and a bit…” Zayn made a crude calculation in his head. “You’ve been alive for over a _hundred_ times the length of time I’ve known you.”

“That’s weird,” Liam mumbled. And it was, because Liam felt that his life had only really begun when he’d moved out here with Niall. Everything before that seemed like just waiting time. Time when he’d been held captive in his own home, fettered by the fear of his own father and, admittedly, most everyone else, too. Things were so much different now. He felt much more _alive_.

“Do you ever think about that?” Zayn asked. Liam could tell from his tone that Zayn was revving up to wax philosophical on this topic. “Like, I’ve only just met you, and Niall, and Lou and Harry. It’s hard to imagine _not_ knowing you guys, but there’s so much about you that I _don’t_ know. You know?”

Liam could conceive of no answer. Fortunately, Zayn elaborated, “Like, you’re a pretty special person to me, right?” Liam tried not to let himself be distracted by the fact that it felt like all his innards had melted into warm honey. “But you’ve existed for nineteen years and had all these experiences that I wasn’t a part of. Which…okay, sounds creepy possessive. But I don’t mean it like that. Just.” Liam felt Zayn reach up to run a frustrated hand through his hair as he struggled to express himself properly. “Just curious about people’s stories, I suppose.”

Liam thought he might have pinpointed the source of Zayn’s literary obsession.

He mulled over Zayn’s ramble. “I sup-p-pose,” Liam allowed. “But you c-could alw-ways just ask p-people.”

Zayn fell quiet and Liam began to worry that maybe his comment had been taken for sass. He’d just opened his mouth when Zayn said, “Okay.”

Liam blinked. “Okay what?”

“Okay, I’ll just ask, then.”

Liam was starting to think he’d inadvertently signed up for something. He turned his head to look up at Zayn quizzically.

“Did you ever play the questions game when you were a kid? Like at summer camp or anything?”

Liam shook his head. “N-never went to camp,” he admitted.

“Well, it’s really easy. Basically you just go back and forth asking questions. It’s like truth or dare without the dare part. We used to use it as an icebreaker at camp to get to know everyone at the beginning of the summer.”

“Oh.” That didn’t sound _so_ difficult. It was always more the _dare_ part of those games that freaked Liam out the most—not that he’d ever had much opportunity to play them in the first place, but still. To be left at the mercy of one’s peers like that? What could be worse?

Liam thought this might be okay, though. With just Zayn. “Y-you first,” Liam insisted, because he didn’t have a question ready and he was nervous.

“Umm okay.” Zayn pondered briefly. “So you never went to summer camp?”

Liam wasn’t convinced this qualified as a real question, because it really demanded more an explanation than an answer, which didn’t seem fair. “Yes?” he responded uncertainly. “What’s the q-question?”

Zayn shrugged. “Just wondering why, I guess. Too shy? Not keen on the outdoors? Or, I guess more importantly, what did you do with summer vacations instead?”

“Th-that’s a lot of q-q-questions,” Liam accused.

Zayn’s laugh shook Liam against his chest. “Pick one.”

Liam looked down at their hands, wound together, and weighed his choices. He ultimately chose to answer the “why not” part. It would be less painful to describe than what he’d actually done during his summer vacations—mostly hide in his own room for those lonely months, or else tuck himself away in a corner of the local library, making friends with book characters instead of the kids in his neighborhood. “Too exp-p-pensive, camp,” he murmured. “My family d-didn’t…yeah.” He shrugged with one shoulder, self-consciously. “But proba-ably wouldn’t ‘ve liked it anyway.” Liam lifted his hand to reference Zayn’s earlier comment. “T-too many people. Too shy.” He swallowed heavily and kept his eyes on their hands.

Zayn hummed his acknowledgement of this answer and turned to kiss Liam’s temple. “Your turn.”

“So y-you went to summer c-camp?”

“You stole my question!” said Zayn.

“I alt-tered your question,” Liam evaded. “Ans-swer.”

Zayn huffed. “Bossy, aren’t you?”

“Mm-hmm,” Liam agreed absently, burrowing his feet under the sheets bunched at the bottom of the bed.

“Both my parents used to work full time,” Zayn explained. “Dad being especially busy in the summer, with SUMMER SPLASH! being open, on top of all the other businesses he’s involved in around town. So they’d just send Doniya and me off to camp for the whole summer. But when Safaa was born, Mom retired from her private practice, though.”

“Did you like c-camp?” said Liam.

“Yeah, it was fun,” Zayn recalled. “Most of the kids were only there for the week or two, though, so I had to swap out friends like, five or six times each year. And I would always try to sneak off and read in my bunk when we were supposed to be at the pool.” Zayn allowed himself a self-deprecating laugh. “By the end of the summer, the counselors would just let me get away with it.”

Liam chuckled, imagining a young Zayn dodging attempts to coax him into the water, hiding behind a book.

“My turn,” Zayn announced unnecessarily. “Let’s see. What’s your favorite place in the world?”

“Niall’s place,” Liam said automatically, and only realized how lame that sounded after the words were out of his mouth. “H-haven’t been that many pla-aces,” he defended before Zayn could even open his mouth to reply.

“That’s okay. Where would you _want_ to go, then?”

Liam deliberated. “Maybe…somewhere w-with a beach,” he decided, the last part lilting upward like a question. “Or even a l-lake.”

“You like to swim?”

Liam nodded eagerly. “Wh-when Lou isn’t ar-around.”

Zayn snorted. “Yeah, understandable.”

“And _your_ favorite p-place?”

“You,” Zayn said, poking Liam in the arm, “are a question thief.”

Liam grinned smugly.

“It’s not in the spirit of the game.”

Liam waited.

“ _Fine_ ,” Zayn surrendered. “But next time you come up with your own question. I’m not doing all the work here. Favorite place? There’s this ‘lake’—I’m adding air quotes because people in the neighborhood call it The Lake, but it’s really more a pond—a ways down the road. My dad and I used to take a little rowboat out on it to fish sometimes, before he got too busy with work. It’s a cool place. Very peaceful. You ever been fishing?”

Liam squirmed. “Once.”

“Not a fan?”

That was one way of putting it. Liam shrugged. “Show me somet-time?” Liam requested. “The p-pond, I mean.”

“Yeah, of course.” Zayn seemed excited at the prospect. “We could go tomorrow, if you want. After work?”

Liam nodded.

“Cool. Hmm.” Zayn made little clucking noises with his mouth while he tried to contrive his next question. “What are you most afraid of?”

Well, that one was easy, Liam thought bitterly. It was almost kind of sad how quickly the answer came to mind, and how certain he was that it was still the truth. Even now. Even now that he was hundreds of miles away. There was still that voice in the back of his head, still a part of him that felt small and fearful at the very memory of _him_. And Liam _hated_ him for that. “My dad.”

For the second time that night, Zayn was silent at the reference to Liam’s father. Then, at long last, “You’re not in contact with either of them, right?”

Liam shook his head. “N-not since…”

“Good,” said Zayn fiercely. Liam felt himself pulled a little tighter against Zayn’s chest and found he didn’t mind. “Your turn,” Zayn murmured into his hair. “Original question this time, please.”

Liam rolled his eyes. “Gonna show m-me your comics?”

“Oh, yeah!” Zayn immediately perked up. “Pause in the question game. Here.” He gently pushed Liam away to get out of bed and rummaged for something underneath, tossing random items of out of his way—Liam spotted the Babysitter Academy first aid kit among them—and finally slid out not one, but three storage-size cardboard boxes. Zayn opened the flaps, practically alight with pride, to reveal the books.

“Cool,” Liam breathed, sliding off bed to get a better look.

“Yeah.”

Liam allowed Zayn to pull out a few of the books—they looked meticulously organized, even in the shabby boxes—and watched how he handled them with care. Zayn handed a couple Fantastic Four books to Liam and fished around for something else.

“This is the first one I ever got.” Zayn pulled out a Spider-Man comic that had been zipped into a plastic baggy. “Ant had a copy of the first comic that ever featured Spider-Man—which, fun fact, was an issue of _Amazing Fantasy_ , and they created _The Amazing Spider-Man_ series after that ‘cause he was so popular. Anyway,” Zayn went on, smiling apologetically for his tangent, “I had to beg my mom for _weeks_ to let me get comics, because she was convinced they would just end up like my Pokemon cards. To be fair, I mostly just organized those in binders and looked at them for fun.”

Liam snorted. He did seem to remember a lot of kids bringing those cards to recess and comparing collections but never actually playing the game.

“Looks l-like these got g-g-good use, though,” Liam remarked, just as a loose page fell from the comic he was handling. He drew in a breath sharply and attempted to reposition the paper. “S-sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Zayn soothed and took the comic from Liam’s hands. “This is like, a decade old. Sometimes they fall apart.” He placed the book on his nightstand. “I’ll fix it later.”

Zayn proceeded to give Liam the grand tour of his collection, featuring more childhood stories that often starred Ant, a detailed monologue about the differences between Marvel and DC, and his opinions of recent superhero movies. Liam was content to listen, interjecting his questions or an _mm-hmm_ where it felt necessary.

“I’m thinking about getting a tattoo of a sound effect somewhere,” Zayn told him at one point. “’BOOM’ or ‘POW’ or something. I haven’t decided, though.”

“ _ZAP_ ,” Liam suggested jokingly, flicking the fingers of one hand outward in Zayn’s direction.

Zayn paused, apparently giving the idea serious thought. “I like it,” Zayn said slowly, sounding elaborately impressed. Liam grinned shyly back, emitting a small squeak of surprise when Zayn leaned forward to press his lips against Liam’s. Zayn pulled back. “Sorry,” he said, even though his lips were curled up in a smile. “You’re just. You’re my favorite.” Then went back to kissing Liam again. Not that Liam was going to complain.

***

Zayn drove Liam home around one in the morning, and walked up to Niall’s apartment with him (once again citing gentlemanliness for his behavior) despite the fact that Liam told him repeatedly Niall would still be up. More specifically, Niall would act like a mother hen about the whole business.

Predictably, Niall shouted, “You’re late!” as soon as Liam stepped over the threshold.

“And you have neighbors,” Zayn reminded him, following Liam through the doorway. “Calm down.”

“I trust young Liam’s virtue is still intact.” Niall stood up off the couch and folded his arms very seriously at Zayn. Liam squawked indignantly.

“Absolutely,” Zayn said, smiling widely.

Niall nodded formally. “Well, then, you’re dismissed. Thanks for getting him back safe. You seem like a good lad.” Liam thought he might actually die of embarrassment.

Zayn gave a mock little bow and pulled Liam in for a quick kiss (while Niall made retching noises) before stepping out. “See you tomorrow at work,” he told Liam.

“See you,” Niall said, flopping back down on the couch.

“Wasn’t talking to you,” Zayn sing-songed as he headed down the hall.

“I know,” Niall sang back obnoxiously, matching Zayn’s pitch almost dead-on. Then lowered his voice to gripe cheerfully, “ _Now_ who’s disrupting the neighbors.”

“S-still you,” Liam said. He closed and locked the door and went to sit down beside Niall.

“So?” Niall asked.

“Good,” Liam replied shortly, feeling Niall had lost the privilege to hear about his date.

“And?” Niall prompted.

“Good,” Liam repeated stubbornly, fighting to keep a straight face.

“You suck.” Niall shoved a pillow at him and stood. “I’ll let you have your bed. Goodnight.”

“N-night,” Liam replied, adjusting his pillows and pulling a blanket over himself. He’d been teasing Niall, of course, but as Liam lay in the dark, he really couldn’t think of a better word to describe his first legitimate date. It had been good.

***

_To say that Liam had had better days would have been a vast understatement. He and his father had spent the day fishing with his father’s friend, Mr. Pollar, and his son, Greg. Liam hated fishing—it was long and boring and sitting in the boat under the sun had left him uncomfortably pink on his nose and cheeks._

_The ordeal was made slightly more bearable by the fact Greg was pretty friendly. He and Liam spent most of the day chatting—or, more accurately, Greg chatted at Liam and Liam listened, which was more than Liam could usually expect from his schoolmates. Liam couldn’t help but glow a bit under the attention—since Niall had left last year, he hadn’t had much company. Greg didn't demand much in return, so Liam was at low risk of making a fool of himself. He was content to watch Greg (who, he had to admit, wasn’t_ bad _looking) and laugh at all Greg’s jokes and pretend like he knew what the fuck he was doing with his fishing rod._

_This all would’ve been fine, if Liam hadn’t caught his father watching them darkly while Mr. Pollar reached for another beer from the cooler. Liam tensed under the harsh gaze and felt himself begin to perspire more profusely. He hunched his shoulders and averted his eyes, at a loss for what he'd done wrong._

_When Liam arrived home, he figured he was probably due to find out. His father wouldn’t so much as look at Liam as he traipsed into the kitchen. Liam trailed in his wake timidly. To Liam’s surprise, though, his father made no comment regarding his foul mood. Instead, he just cracked open another beer and settled down in front of the kitchen TV. Liam hovered awkwardly near the fridge before creeping up the stairs, totally baffled as to how he was supposed to handle this lack of punishment._

_Normalcy was restored, though, when Liam went down later that night to get something for dinner. Since he couldn’t hear the TV from upstairs anymore, Liam thought it might be safe to make a quick take-out trip down to the kitchen. His mother was out with some of her gal pals from college for a “ladies night,” so his safest bet was to spend as little time out of his bedroom as possible. When Liam arrived downstairs, his father was in the bathroom, and Liam leapt at this rare window of opportunity. Perhaps if he worked fast enough, he could avoid his father altogether._

_No such luck, though. Liam had just finished organizing a plate of cheese and crackers when he heard the toilet flush and the bathroom door open. He was frozen with his hands on the plate when his father crossed into the room. Liam wrinkled his nose against the encroaching stench of alcohol and took a step back._

_Liam’s father surveyed him with bleary eyes and stepped past him to get into the fridge. Liam cringed into the wall and tried to sneak away with his snack, but was halted when his father slurred, “Pollar’s kid isn’t a fag.”_

_Liam felt his throat constrict and he turned slowly to face his dad. Said nothing, of course._

_“I saw,” his father continued, pointing unsteadily at his own eyes for emphasis. “I_ saw _you, looking at him. Fuck,” he spat. “_ Fuck _, Liam.”_

 _Liam started to shake his head, feeling rather numb because_ no _, he hadn’t been looking at Greg like that. Honest. At least, he hadn’t_ meant _to—_

_Apparently his father took his head shaking as insubordination rather than disbelief, because he slammed his drink down on the counter and fisted his hand in Liam’s shirt. The plate clattered to the floor, but neither Liam nor his father paid it any mind._

_“If I_ ever _catch you looking at someone like that again—so help me.” He whirled Liam around so that his back hit the refrigerator. Liam held his breath—whether out of pure terror or to ward off the odor of beer breath in his face, Liam was in no state to tell. All he knew was that his father’s hands were on either side of his head and his heart was racing and he honestly hadn’t even_ done _anything this time._

_After a few tense moments, Liam’s father stepped away from him, crunching a cracker underfoot. He looked down with an expression of vague confusion, before shaking his shoe and ordering Liam to “clean this shit up.” Liam knelt immediately and collected the snack that had been strewn across the floor while his father watched._

_“Now get out of my sight.”_

_Liam did not need to be told twice._

_Upon later reflection, Liam realized that this was the moment he realized he truly hated, loathed,_ detested _his father. Not so much for the roughing around or destroying his carefully made spread of cheese and crackers, but because his father had seen something in Liam and hated him for it before Liam had even seen it in himself._

***

The following day, Zayn took Liam to his pond after work. It was in the valley between a couple of green, sloping hills, on top of which a few grand homes were perched—which was par for the course in Zayn’s neighborhood, Liam realized as they were driving around.

“This whole bit of land used to be a single estate,” Zayn explained as he flopped down on the ground in the sun. “Most of the houses around here are McMansions—our house is like, the hut of the neighborhood.”

Liam laughed with him, and tried again not to think about how many of his own family’s houses could fit into Zayn’s.

To entertain themselves, Zayn briefly resumed their question game for a few rounds: Favorite food? Pet peeve? Patronus? (a concept that took Zayn a few minutes to explain to Liam, who had never read the Harry Potter series—although apparently this was nothing short of a criminal offense, as far as Zayn was concerned; Zayn subsequently made it his personal mission to make sure Liam read it by the end of the summer).

“What’s _your_ biggest fear?” Liam asked for his next turn, dancing out of the way when Zayn kicked his foot in the pond to send a spray of water in Liam’s direction (presumably for stealing his question from the other night—but in Liam’s defense, he _had_ been coming up with most of his own questions today).

“I have two.” Zayn held up two fingers in peace sign formation. “First,” he ticked off, “being the family disappointment. Doniya’s already off doing some fancy research program this summer, and she’s pre-med. She’s got her life so completely on track, as Mom and Dad have a habit of continually reminding me.” Zayn shook his head. “Needless to say, being the kid who spends his summer flipping burgers because he was in a stupid fight at school isn’t exactly the best feeling in the world.

“My other fear,” Zayn continued, smiling wryly now, “is drowning. That one seems pretty self-explanatory.”

Liam chuckled. “Weren’t you sc-scared when you w-were fishing?” He looked out over the pond and tried to imagine how deep it might be in the middle.

Zayn tilted his head back and forth indecisively. “Maybe? I guess there was always kind of this vague fear that something might happen, but I was always with my dad. And I knew he wasn’t gonna let me drown or anything. When I was a kid...I thought he was a superhero, or some shit, you know?” Zayn’s emphasis on the past tense in this explanation did not evade Liam’s notice. Liam only nodded in response. He’d felt the same way about his mother for years.

“I c-could try to tea-each you,” Liam offered. “How to s-swim.” The more he thought about it, the more he liked the idea. It was an excuse to spend more time with Zayn, and it would provide the opportunity for Liam to bring something else to the table in their relationship. He wasn’t sure he could consider it a romantic gesture, but...but Zayn had opened his car door too many times for Liam to stand by and do nothing, dammit.

Zayn squinted at Liam in the sun. “I don’t know…”

Liam wilted a bit. “Oh. Y-yeah, that’s…yeah. Okay.”

“I’m not—” Zayn scratched his jaw uncomfortably. “It’s not _you_ , Liam.” Liam raised a dubious eyebrow. “It’s just, I’ve taken a couple of swim lessons before, but. Frankly, I’m a pain in the ass to work with when I don’t know how to do something. I get frustrated really easily, and I don’t want my learning how to swim to be something that puts us in a position where I might...you know.” Zayn waved his arms dramatically in a way that reminded Liam of Louis’s interpretive dance to describe Zayn’s anger.

“Okay,” Liam agreed, trying not to look disappointed. “That’s f-fine.”

Zayn looked unconvinced, and concerned that he’d upset Liam.

“Really,” Liam promised, punctuating his statement with an amiable pat on Zayn’s shoulder.

And it really was. Liam would just have to find some other way to demonstrate his feelings for Zayn.

***

_It was Liam’s parents’ twenty-second anniversary. You wouldn’t know it, Liam thought, looking around the kitchen—no cards, no balloons, and Liam’s mother bent over the stove, stirring a pot of noodles in a baggy t-shirt and sweatpants. From where he sat at the kitchen table doing his homework, he heard his mother heave a sigh just before turning on the fan above the stove. Over the loud humming, Liam almost missed the sound of the garage door opening._

_Liam’s father had never really been the romantic type—or at least, in Liam’s experience, his father had never shown a romantic side. Maybe things were different when Liam was younger, or before Liam was even born. But sometimes Liam wondered how a person like his mother could fall in love with a person like his father._

_As if Liam’s thoughts had summoned him, Goeff Payne entered the kitchen, concealing something behind his back. Liam watched curiously as his father tapped his mother on the shoulder. She whirled around to find a bouquet of flowers under her nose and Liam could’ve sworn she nearly cried with joy (or was it relief?). She wrapped her arms around Liam’s father, heedless of the petals probably being crushed between their chests, before peppering her husband’s face with kisses. “Thank you,” Liam heard her murmuring over and over again. “Thank you.”_

_“What’s cooking?” Liam’s father asked. Then, before his mom could answer, “It doesn’t matter. Stop cooking, whatever it is. We’re going out for dinner tonight.”_

_“Really?” Liam’s mother enthused, clapping her hands over her cheeks. “I’ve—I’ve got to go get dressed!” And without even turning off the stove, she vanished from the room in a flurry of excitement. Liam’s father chortled to himself as he set the bouquet down on the counter. He looked over at Liam. “What’re you working on? Homework?” Liam nodded and held up the paper he was writing on as evidence. “Good. Make yourself something to eat tonight, okay? Your mother and I are going to be out late.”_

_Liam nodded obediently and went back to his work, slightly distracted by his father’s presence in the room. A slightly awkward silence fell until Liam’s mother raced back down the stairs, now donning heels and a dress._

_“How do I look?” she asked Liam’s father uncertainly, delicately pulling strands of hair back from her face._

_“Beautiful,” his father proclaimed, drawing her in by the waist for a kiss. Liam heard his mother giggle, not unlike a smitten schoolgirl, and he shifted uncomfortably in his seat. She was positively radiant under his father’s adoration._

_“Be good while we’re gone, okay sweetie?” Liam’s mother addressed him, already walking out the door. “Call if you need something.”_

_“But try not to need anything,” his father warned before shutting the door behind them._

_After a few moments, Liam stood up and went to turn off the stove burner. The pasta had already congealed in a burnt glob on the bottom of the pot, so Liam poured out the water and threw away his would-be dinner. Whatever. He would rather have cereal anyway._

_As Liam poured milk over his bowl of Cheerios, he couldn’t help resent his mother a bit. He knew that he shouldn’t—of course she should bask in her husband’s affection, they were_ married _after all. It was their anniversary. She should be happy. He_ wanted _her to be happy._

 _But, absurd as it was, Liam couldn’t help feeling that his father was shoving their love smugly in Liam’s face with this rare act of romance. It felt...Liam didn’t really know how to describe it. Only that he now understood why his mother never really stood up to his father when he left Liam’s arms or back covered in bruises, and why she never reprimanded him for making such cruel remarks about Liam’s...everything. No matter how much Liam loved his mother or vice versa, Liam would never be able to give her that glowing, weightless feeling that his father gave her when he brought home a bouquet of flowers and took her out to dinner. How could Liam have ever expected her to take his side when the other side was_ that _?_

_Romance, Liam realized, was a powerful force, even when it showed up for only two hours on special nights once a year. Liam would always come second. He would never have a true ally in this house. That battle had been lost long before he was born._

***

“I need your help.”

“On the contrary,” Niall said rather breathlessly, jerking away from the swarm of bees that emerged from the trashcan as he lifted off the lid, “ _I_ need _your_ help. Have the insecticide over there?”

Niall and Liam were changing the trashcan liners around the park while Lou and Harry took their lunch break. Much to Liam’s chagrin, the trashcans by the slushy stand had developed a bit of a bee problem as of late (since kids were in the habit of discarding half-eaten treats into the garbage, where they melted into sticky, sugary pools and attracted a thick swarm of insects).

Liam handed the canister of insecticide spray to Niall, who did an awkward little dance around the bees, shooting a thick stream of chemicals in their general direction, and then liberally doused the inside of the trashcan with the stuff. When he was satisfied, Niall handed the bottle off to Liam and lunged forward to tie off the trash bag with record speed before lifting it into the dumpster. Enter Liam, who would carefully insert himself into the throng to replace the bag with great caution. Remarkably neither of them had sustained more than two bee stings each (but hey, the season was only halfway over).

“But r-really,” Liam continued when they emerged from the bee battle, thankfully unscathed this time, “I n-need your help.”

“With?”

“Um.” How could Liam word this? “Romance?”

Niall looked over at him with blatant surprise. “What now?”

Liam felt his already-sunburned cheeks flush red. “Uh, y-yeah.” Liam proceeded to recount Zayn’s many romantic gestures and gentlemanly deeds and Liam’s resulting feelings of inadequacy (really, what else was new). Luckily, Niall listened with more thoughtful intent than he’d initially portrayed when Liam broached the subject.

“So, your question is, what can you do to be romantic in return,” Niall summarized as they emptied the last garbage can into the dumpster.

“Y-yes.”

“Hmm,” was all Niall said.

Well, that was less than helpful. Liam threw Niall a disgruntled look.

“No, I’m trying to think,” Niall justified. “It’s difficult to tell, when you’re not actually in the relationship. There’s the classic stuff you can do to be romantic, like, flowers and picnics in the park and…” Niall flapped his hand, “all that. But what’s romantic for one couple isn’t necessarily for another. You just have to trust that you know the person well enough to know what they like and appreciate.”

Liam sighed. Still not the straightforward advice he was hoping for, but he supposed it might be the best he got. “What ab-bout you a-and Andrea?” he asked.

“You mean, what’s romantic for us?” Niall clarified. Liam nodded. “Like...taking her out to dinner at places she likes, or surprising her with concert tickets for a band she wants to see. We’re going to see Cage the Elephant next weekend,” he boasted. “Stuff like that. But also just little things, like telling her that she looks nice, or agreeing to go shopping with her even though I _know_ I’m just going to end up sitting on some uncomfortable bench outside a changing room somewhere while she tries on three thousand outfits that all look basically the same.” Niall shrugged. “It’s not that complicated. You just treat the person well, make them feel special. Which shouldn’t be hard at all, if they really are special to you.”

Liam stared at Niall with open surprise. When did Niall become a love expert?

“Stop staring at me like that!” Niall rebuked with an embarrassed grin.

Liam held his arms up, palms out, and looked away, contemplating what Niall had said. It shouldn’t be hard at all, if Zayn was really special to him. He just needed to do things he knew Zayn would appreciate. Alright, Liam could do this. He could master—or at least manage—romance if it was the last thing he did. For Zayn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow. Talk about late. Sorry, I totally slacked for like, a week after exams ended, and then ended up moving so that I could intern for the summer...Anyway, all the usual (plus more) apologies for taking almost a month to update. Hopefully will not happen again. Also, I know it still says 8/? chapters now, but I'm thinking there will be around 11 or 12 chapters total, if it matters to anyone. If I take this long to update again, feel free to leave me (passive)aggressive comments below :)
> 
> To those of you who are actual comic book aficionados, you'll have to forgive my rudimentary attempt at crafting a dialogue on this subject. I only ever read Spider-Man (surprise, surprise) and don't have much background on the topic. So if you see anything fishy/unauthentic, please point it out. 
> 
> Also, general thoughts on character development in this chapter/so far? I think that's...it. Generally I have more questions for you all (which many of you have so kindly taken the time to answer in the comments, so thanks again for that--it's always nice to hear from people, if only to be reassured that someone is still interested in reading this). But I'm feeling a bit nervous about this chapter, since so much of it felt like just a setup for future chapters. *peeks through fingers*


	9. Part 9

By late July, Liam was thinking he’d probably had enough of being a janitor for one lifetime. As the season progressed, it only got hotter and stuffier in the attic, to the point that respite could only be found outside. Consequently, Liam found himself doing more actual work out on the pool deck than he’d done since the first week of June, which made him feel slightly more useful. On the other hand, whatever sparse amount of respect Liam could hope to receive from the customers when the summer was young had _long_ since gone away. People were, as Niall had warned, rude, self-involved, and in the habit of addressing him as “hey, you!” or worse, “dude, you need to mop up that nasty [insert bodily fluid here].”

Outside work, things were going okay. Niall and his lady friend, Andrea, had finally made themselves official, to Niall’s great excitement. He was practically bouncing off the walls these days, to Liam’s great delight (and, admittedly, sometimes amusement). There was just something about Niall’s happiness that was just so…infectious. Liam had the honor of actually meeting the girl when she came over to hang out at their place (oh yeah, and Liam had _finally_ mentally promoted himself to a resident of the apartment—hurrah), about a week after his date with Zayn. Liam figured Andrea must _really_ like Niall, because she arrived almost immediately after Liam and Niall returned home from work, and neither of them had showered yet. The fact that Andrea neither vomited nor fainted was something of a minor miracle, and Liam decided to like her right away. There was also the fact that (in an act of kindness worthy of Niall Horan’s girlfriend) Andrea never commented on the way Liam spoke, and made no remark when he retreated into Niall’s room about ten minutes after her arrival, thoroughly exhausted from the day’s worth of social interaction. Yeah, some things never changed.

As for Zayn, Liam supposed his first romantic involvement was developing as well as it could have been, all things considered. They’d been out on a couple more _date_ dates, including a lunch in the park for which Liam had done most of the cooking. Zayn was, as always, complimentary of the food, and Liam found it difficult to contain his pride. This was, he surmised, the closest he’d gotten to being _really_ romantic. Though it wasn’t for lack of trying. _Liam_ was the one racing to open doors first, now, or pulling out Zayn’s chair for him to sit. Zayn, for his part, seemed to find these efforts amusing, if slightly endearing.

But these gestures never brought to Zayn’s face the expression Liam was _sure_ they had brought to his own when Zayn did them--happiness, bashfulness, and always a little bit of surprise (he couldn’t help it). At risk of sounding like the leading lady of a cheesy rom-com, Zayn took Liam’s breath away _constantly_ , and the longer they dated, the more unsure Liam was that he would be able to do the same. 

On the bright side, Zayn seemed oblivious to Liam’s niggling self-doubt. Which, normally Liam would find strange or even slightly disheartening, since Zayn always seemed so in-tuned with Liam’s every emotion. To a scary level, sometimes. But a lot had been going on in Zayn’s life lately. In addition to having a new boyfriend, he was also almost finished with his transfer process (and would be attending the same university as Niall in the fall, which the two of them were infinitely excited about). Zayn had also just been promoting to vending manager at the park, since the old manager almost burned the whole stand down while carelessly lighting a joint in the supply closet during his break.

Zayn was a lot more excited about the latter development than Liam thought he would be.

“Dude, isn’t this great?” Zayn had raved. “I’ve been on good behavior all summer and look. It means Dad is starting to trust me. A bit, at least. To put me in charge of this.” Zayn waved his arms around at the grimy kitchen like it was his kingdom.

To be deemed more responsible than a negligent stoner might, at first (and second, and third) glance appear to be a small achievement, but Liam could almost feel the excitement rolling of Zayn in waves. And understandably so: despite the mere fifty-cent raise in Zayn’s hourly pay, this was a major milestone in Zayn’s relationship with his father.

Liam could even see it in the way Zayn interacted with his dad when they were over at his house (Liam had been spending a lot more time there, these days, and had even braved _two whole dinners_ with Zayn’s family--it wasn’t as painful as expected, though Liam could admit he’d kept his eyes on his plate for most of the meal; hey, babysteps). Liam had previously only observed minimal interaction between Zayn and his father, but if the laughter and easy conversation was anything to go by, Liam had to say their relationship was on the mend. Liam’d asked Zayn at one point whether he and his father had ever achieved any sort of understanding about Zayn’s intended area of study. According to Zayn, they’d reached something of an impasse, which was progress in itself. Zayn hadn’t had any more enraged outbursts regarding the matter, and Liam could personally attest to how nice that was.

So, all good things to report in Zayn’s life, which put Zayn in all the better a mood when he was with Liam. Which resulted in a lot of hand-holding and bright smiles and all the comforting, warm, happy things Liam liked most about being with Zayn. Which was why Liam wasn’t mentioning the whole self-doubt issue. And also...maybe something else.

It wasn’t a secret! Really. Liam...Liam definitely would have told someone, if they’d asked. And they hadn’t, so. Yeah. That’s what he was sticking with. Niall’s stalwart insistence that Liam confide in someone if something was bothering him definitely didn’t apply here because it wasn’t bothering Liam, not really. Not like it had the first two times it happened.

See, the thing was, Liam had gotten a few more calls from his mother’s number recently. By a few more, he meant six more. Exactly six. Liam knew, because he had this inexplicable habit of scrolling through his missed calls list. He’d been receiving these calls with increasing frequency. The third had come in only two days after his dinner-and-a-movie with Zayn. They’d been chilling with Harry, Lou, and Niall in the living room, watching Pulp Fiction for a “guys night”. The effect of which was slightly ruined by Harry intermittently nibbling on Louis’ ear and kissing his neck (though the subject of his ministrations was evidently too engrossed in the movie to notice). Also Liam curled comfortably into Zayn’s side (and then not so comfortably, when Marvin got shot, as he was practically in Zayn’s lap). Liam felt his phone buzz before he heard it, and figured it must be Niall sending him some sarcastic remark about his current position. That suspicion was laid to rest when, as before, the phone _kept_ buzzing, which was a point of concern because the only people who had any business calling Liam were all _right there_ , with no phones in their hands.

Liam didn’t really have to look to know who it was.

“Aren’t you going to get that?” Zayn whispered (Louis was stricter than a drill sergeant when it came to being quiet during Tarantino movies). Undoubtedly Zayn could feel the vibration of his phone as well as Liam could, given their absurd proximity.

Liam shook his head and settled back into Zayn’s chest, unwilling to let this be ruined for him. Things were finally what Liam would qualify as _good_ in his life, and if that wasn’t a staggering realization, Liam didn’t know what was. The dark, doubtful edges of his mind, which he only dwelled upon just before sleep, the little parts of him that still demanded he _try harder_ or _be better_ , well. They had retreated to be just that--dark edges. Sure, Liam still got in his own way sometimes, but relatively speaking, he was okay. Things were okay.

And he would _not_ let her ruin this for him.

***

“It’s Louis and Harry’s third anniversary today,” Niall unnecessarily informed Liam on the twenty-eighth of July.

It was unnecessary because everyone and their mother knew it was Louis and Harry’s anniversary today--the men two in question had made absolutely certain of that. The deliveries of flowers to the water park, talk of candlelit dinner plans, and enthusiastic “happy anniversary!”-exchange-slash-make-out-session that had taken place when they both arrived this morning all aside, Lou and Harry had been eye-fucking each other more than usual all day. And that was saying something. It was also starting to make Liam a tad uncomfortable. Really, though, what was he going to say? It was _HarryandLouis_. They were the water park’s resident Jim and Pam, Ross and Rachel, Cory and Topanga (admittedly, Liam had been spending too much time on Niall’s Netflix account recently). And it was their anniversary. He couldn’t just tell the two lovebirds to _stop_.

Apparently, Zayn was of the opposite opinion. “Get a room!” was Zayn’s greeting when he entered the filter room attic at lunch, throwing a stack of napkins at the entanglement of limbs that was _HarryandLouis_. They broke apart with a slight “oof” when the napkins hit their faces (nice aim, Zayn) but immediately brightened when they saw Zayn had brought them food.

“Happy anniversary,” Zayn congratulated, hastily withdrawing his hands before they too were gobbled up by two teenage boys.

“I knew there was a reason I was glad you got promoted,” Harry said through a mouthful of fries. “Can we be expecting this every day now? The free food?”

“Don’t count on it,” Zayn said seriously, before giving in to a smile. He settled himself down on the floor next to Liam and casually, almost automatically wrapped an arm around him. Liam tilted his head toward Zayn and inhaled the familiar cocktail of cigarette smoke and cooking grease (poorly masked by some body spray Liam couldn’t name) Zayn always bore when he was at work.

“Is it nice being the big boss man?” Louis asked with a smirk. “You’re in charge of who, Perrie?”

“And four other people!” Zayn defended.

“Oh, my mistake.”

“I’ll have you know that people depend on me,” Zayn said, puffing out his chest dramatically. Liam giggled. “I can only take lunch breaks for _fifteen_ minutes now, is how much they depend on my very presence over there.”

Liam looked up, dismayed. This was news to him, and he supposed Zayn, too, who threw an apologetic look Liam’s way.

“I think _that_ has more to do with giving you as little time as possible to wander off and make trouble, now that they’ve granted you the title ‘manager,’” Niall put in.

“You all are a bunch of unsupportive bastards,” Zayn declared and showed Louis, Harry, and Niall his middle finger. “I only like Liam now. So, you guys can suck it.”

“ _I_ didn’t say anything!” Harry sputtered.

“Like any of us _ever_ had a chance of beating Liam out for your affections,” Louis scoffed dramatically and turned back to start making out with Harry again.

“Please, Zayn, take me back!” Niall mock pleaded, actually sinking to his knees in supplication. “You can’t leave me alone with those two--” gesturing at Louis and Harry, who were no longer listening “--I’ll go insane!”

Zayn pretended to give the matter some thought. “Okay,” he agreed. “If you promise to keep Liam company in my absence. Can’t leave him alone with these depraved…” Zayn gesticulated at Louis and Harry, seemingly unable to think up a word to describe their particular brand of debauchery. “They’ll ruin him.”

“Aye aye,” Niall concurred, saluting Zayn. Then checked his watch. “How much time you got left?”

Zayn pulled out his phone and made a face. “I should probably head back. Spent a few minutes trying to sneak away their food at the beginning of break. And Dad’s gonna be at the park this afternoon, so.”

“Malik--er, your dad’s here?” Niall corrected himself.

“For a bit, yeah. There’re some safety inspections going on today, and he likes to be here for those.” Zayn shrugged.

“Alright, well then.” Niall stood up with purpose. “Looks like Liam and I have the perfect excuse to avoid _that_ ,” he jerked his thumb at the lovers, “for the rest of the day. Come on, Liam, gotta go make like we’re useful members of this staff.”

Liam stood up and followed Niall out of the room with Zayn trailing behind.

“Hey.” Zayn took up Liam’s hand and Liam turned around. “Want to hang out this afternoon? My place?”

Liam smiled brightly and nodded. Zayn pressed a kiss against his lips. “Awesome. I’ll wait for you in the parking lot after clocking out?”

With Liam’s agreement, Zayn vanished off to the vending stand again. Liam was about to follow Niall out of the filter room with a pan and broom when he realized he’d left his phone upstairs.

“Be r-right back,” he told Niall. “Ph-phone.”

Niall jerked his head in a nod and went out to sweep up (or at least, pretend to).

When Liam reentered the attic, the other two were still at it. They didn’t look up until Liam fumbled with his phone and it clattered back to the floor (he was, understandably, a bit distracted).

“You and Niall going to make a lap around the pool deck?” Harry asked, the words slightly distorted due to the fact that Louis had Harry's bottom lip between his teeth.

Liam gave a lurching nod and tried to exit the room.

“Hey, Liam.”

Liam looked back to find that Harry was detached from Louis and watching him carefully now, a pucker between his brows, his head slightly tilted. “You okay? You seem... quieter today than usual.”

Liam thought it was saying something that Harry could even call him “quiet” today, when just months ago silence was par for the course for him. Liam just shrugged and Harry shook his head. “No, come back.” Liam trudged over to where Harry and Louis (who looked equally serious now) were wrapped up in each other, feeling distinctly like a disobedient child. “Sit,” Harry requested. Liam sat. “What’s up?”

Liam couldn’t lie, even to himself, about this one. Louis and Harry’s anniversary, it all made him...jealous. And maybe that was a pathetic thing to feel about his friends’ joyous occasion. But… “H-how?” he asked, and then figured he should probably explain himself. “You’ve been toge-ether for three years? And you’re s-still…” Liam lifted his hand at their entwined position.

“‘course,” Harry said. “That’s how it is, being in love with someone.” Like this should’ve been as clear as day to any normal person (maybe it was, Liam thought dismally).

“And you’re n-never worried th-that…” Oh god, Liam was the worst friend ever, bringing all this up on their anniversary, for fuck’s sake. Part of him wanted to just bail on this whole conversation, but Harry and Louis were both looking at Liam expectantly and he had to say _something_. “The oth-other will...g-get bored? Or that th-the romance w-will...g-go away?” Liam cringed at his open question. He was the worst.

“What? No. That’s...no,” Louis said firmly. He looked to Liam like he was thinking hard on the subject, but Liam guessed he was probably wondering more about _why_ Liam was asking then the answer to the question.

Of course, the next moment, Harry was the one to voice “Why?” once again demonstrating his telepathic connection to Louis. Liam bit his lip and shrugged, trying to indicate that he didn’t much want to discuss his motives.

Harry very courteously went along with it. “With Louis and me,” he continued thoughtfully, “I think the most important thing is that we understand each other so well. Like, we’re together pretty much all the time. Louis’s the first person I know I can always go to, to make me laugh or help me with something or make me feel better.” Harry shrugged. “It’s about continually getting to know each other and building that sense of trust. You don’t have to add all this extra special flair all the time--though sometimes we do, obviously.” Harry grinned sheepishly. “Like, uh, today.”

Liam was just mulling that over when Louis spoke up, “It also helps that Hazzah is amazing in bed,” obviously trying to lighten the mood. Harry cheerfully elbowed his boyfriend in the ribs.

“Have some decorum, Lou,” he remonstrated.

Liam fidgeted in his seat. “How long…Th-that is, when did—” Liam began before snapping his mouth shut, aghast at himself for almost asking such a personal question. He felt positively sick with embarrassment.

Harry’s raised eyebrows and Louis’s smirk told Liam that his unfinished question had been understood well enough.

“I don’t know, Haz,” Louis said faux-thoughtfully, turning to his boyfriend and nuzzling into his neck. “How long _did_ it take me to get into your pants?”

“Lou--” Harry began, and then giggled. “That tickles! Get off me you snuffly beast!” Harry shoved Louis off his shoulder but caught him before he could tip back into the table. “It’s different for everyone,” Harry addressed Liam now, still fighting off a Louis who was incredibly intent on distracting him. “I was only fifteen when Louis and I met, so we waited probably a bit longer than some people, but other people can be in relationships for years before they, you know, -- _Lou_ ,” Harry cut off, looking exasperatedly at Louis, who was pushing the forefinger of one hand into the fist of the other rather lewdly. “ _Honestly_.”

“What?” Louis demanded innocently. “You don’t seem to mind when it’s actually your--”

A strange keening whimper escaped Liam’s throat before he could stop it, and Louis turned to him wearing a sly smile (that smile never meant good things for Liam).

“I don’t think we’ve made him that uncomfortable since the beginning of the summer,” Louis marveled to Harry, who propped his chin up on one hand contemplatively and nodded.

“Yeah, I forgot how adorable his face gets when he’s like this,” Harry commented. “Eyes all big, like.” Liam tried to rearrange his facial features into something less, ah, stiff and horrified, but he wasn’t sure he’d done too good a job judging by Harry’s snort.

“Relax, Liam,” Louis advised, giving him a gentle, reaffirming push to the shoulder. “Or your eyes might pop out of your head.”

Liam ducked his head self-consciously and blinked owlishly for good measure before making eye contact again.

Harry reached out and put a hand over Liam’s. “Liam, you’re, what? Two weeks into your first relationship? Almost three? I don’t think you have to worry about the spark being gone yet. The way Zayn _looks_ at you, dude…”

“The way he _talks_ about you when you’re not around,” Louis added, and Liam was surprised to find no sarcasm in either his voice or his expression. And then, because Louis could only manage to be serious in short spurts, “It’s all _Liam this_ , and _Liam that_. Liam, I know more about your expressions and habits and idiosyncrasies than _you_ do, courtesy of Zayn Malik. You think I’ve got room for all that up here--” he tapped his temple with two fingers “--when _this one_ \--” mussing up Harry’s hair “--practically throws a fit if I so much as forget his _half birthday_?”

Harry frowned. “No I don’t,” he said. “Lou, _you’re_ the one who--”

“Regardless,” Louis dismissed, cupping his hand over Harry’s mouth to silence him, “I think all this can be summed up easily in the statement: Harry and I were taking bets on how fast it would take the two of you to get together _literally the_ _day_ Zayn followed you back to the filter room.”

“I won,” Harry interjected happily. Louis rolled his eyes.

“It’s not polite to gloat, Haz,” Louis reprimanded, Liam thought, rather hypocritically. “And damn Zayn for taking eighteen _thousand_ years to make his move. Ridiculous, really. It’s not like he ever made a point to _hide_ the fact that he was totally head-over-heals for Liam. Zayn is totally head-over-heels for you,” Louis said, turning back to Liam. “Okay?” He waited for Liam to nod hesitantly in response. “Good. Now go sweep something up so Harry and I can continue to make out on this highest of holidays.”

And with that, Louis reattached his mouth to Harry’s and Liam promptly fled the room.

***

“Y-you’re moving t-too much.”

“You’re just terrible at aiming.”

“Am n-not.”

“Really. Tell that to the eighteen cheeseballs on my pillow.”

“Stop t-trying to move to ca-atch them. And s-stick out y-your tongue,” Liam instructed.

Zayn rolled his eyes but obeyed. Liam poised to toss the next cheeseball into his mouth when Zayn said, “Don’t hit me in the eye again,” to which Liam responded by doing preciselythat. “Hey!”

“Shh.” Liam readjusted himself with another cheeseball, waited for Zayn to open his mouth again, and cast it in a graceful arc. “Yes!” he cheered, pumping his fists in the air when it landed perfectly in Zayn’s mouth. “T-t-told you.”

Zayn scowled amicably back as he munched on the cheeseball. “Double or nothing.”

Liam did not bother to point out that doubling the zero dollars they’d bet on this game still came out to zero dollars, and chucked another cheeseball into Zayn’s mouth with a smug grin.

“One more,” Zayn demanded, but Liam shook his head, unwilling to risk ending his hot streak.

“Eat th-the ones off your pil-l-llow,” he said instead, popping a cheeseball into his own mouth. Zayn acquiesced, and started to snack on the cheesballs that had collected in the divot of the pillow by his left ear.

“What do you want to do?” Zayn asked in between bites.

Liam shrugged. They’d already had this conversation verbatim about twenty minutes earlier (which is what led to the whole cheeseball throwing game in the first place) and Liam still had no ideas.

“No, you have to pick,” Zayn said, shaking his head against the pillow. “I suggested the cheeseball game idea. Your turn.”

Liam raised an eyebrow at him, hoping to convey he thought Zayn was acting like a miscreant six-year-old, but that only provoked Zayn to sit up and poke him in the leg with a finger. “Please,” Zayn said with a pout, and Liam was strikingly—borderline _disturbingly_ —reminded of Louis for a moment.

“Hush,” Liam said, because he could hardly manage one Louis in his life, let alone two. His phone vibrated, and he checked to see that it was Niall asking whether Liam would be home for dinner (Liam replied _yes_ , since he knew for a fact that there were no leftovers in the fridge, leaving Niall alone to struggle solo through any culinary venture was a risk Liam could not afford to take, what with his sleeping area being mere feet from the stove).

“Do you need to go home soon?” Zayn asked, leaning over Liam’s cell phone to look at the screen upside down. Liam pushed his head back slightly so that he could actually see the keys to type his response.

“Soon-ish,” Liam replied, snapping his phone shut and looking back up at Zayn, whose face was much closer to his own now. Liam blinked.

Zayn pulled a displeased face. “Niall could always order take-out,” he reasoned, and Liam found it very distracting that he could _feel_ the breath of Zayn’s words ghost over his nose and cheeks. Liam swallowed heavily and noted that Zayn’s eyes flicked down briefly to catch the motion of his Adam’s apple.

Before he had time to question himself, Liam leaned forward to cover Zayn’s mouth with his own. He felt Zayn’s gasp of surprise rather than heard it, when Zayn’s lips parted and Liam felt his own slot more easily between them, and Liam had to admit he was just as surprised.

It wasn’t that they hadn’t kissed much, because they had. Or at least, it felt to Liam like they never _stopped_ kissing, which was nice. But it was always, always Zayn who initiated. Liam was more than happy to engage, but he’d heretofore lacked the confidence to instigate that most intimate (well, in Liam’s experience) of touches.

Liam had been thinking a lot about what Louis and Harry had said, though. And, while he no longer felt like he was in this inevitable time-crunch to let Zayn into his pants, Liam was more certain than ever that he should _at least_ be demonstrating his consent to the physical aspect of their relationship in some small way.

When Zayn pulled away, Liam ducked his head uncertainly. “Did I—was that...?”

“Yeah, no, that was.” Zayn shook his head, but he was smiling, and Liam thanked every deity he could think of that Zayn understood what he was trying to ask. “You’ve never done that before.”

Liam chewed his bottom lip.

“Do it again.”

“What?” Liam spluttered, because _what_?

The corners of Zayn’s mouth quirked up in a suggestive smile. “Do it again,” Zayn repeated, his voice low and gravelly and Liam knew that even if he were more experienced, he would still be done for.

Liam went hesitantly now, barely brushed his lips up against Zayn’s, barely a kiss at all, but after initial contact was made, Zayn was perfectly happy to take the lead on things (thank god, Liam thought). Liam felt Zayn’s tongue swipe along the crease between his lips and Liam found himself almost ridiculously elated that his mouth seemed to open automatically. Even the feeling of Zayn’s tongue against his own was starting to feel (marginally) more natural--or at the very least, it was no longer jarring. Liam felt his eyes flutter shut and moved his hands up to grip Zayn’s shoulders so that he wouldn’t float away or something. Zayn’s hands framed Liam’s face oh so gently like Liam was the most precious thing in the world and Liam would never, ever get used this feeling.

A couple of breathless minutes later, they separated and Zayn tipped his forehead to rest against Liam’s. “I should get you home, huh?”

“Mmm,” Liam agreed rather drowsily, allowing a tired smile to spread across his face when Zayn chuckled at him. It was Zayn’s damn fault for being some human drug or something. 

“C’mon, love,” Zayn coaxed, patting Liam on the leg and standing up. He offered his hand to Liam, which Liam took. “Oh, I almost forgot!”

Liam watched quizzically as Zayn raced over to his desk and began to rummage around for something among the plethora of books and empty food cartons that were always piled on top. “What,” Zayn began, still with his back to Liam, “are you doing next Friday?”

“Um.” Had Liam ever made social plans that far in advance? He didn’t think so. “Nothing?”

“No,” Zayn corrected. “You are coming with me to...Damn, where the fuck--oh, here.” Zayn whirled around holding two slips of paper in his hands. “Are coming with me to an Arctic Monkeys concert.”

It was Liam’s turn to gasp. “No.”

“Yes!” Zayn said gleefully. “I wanted to take you to see Cage the Elephant when Niall told me he was going. You know, since you’re such a music aficionado now.” Zayn was biting back a self-satisfied smile, Liam could tell. “But they were all sold out. And I got these,” he flapped the tickets, “kind of late, so they’re lawn seats, but I figured we’d probably want to be a bit back from the crowd anyway. I couldn’t really see you diving into the mosh pit…”

Liam had absolutely no idea what a ‘mosh pit’ was, although by the sound of things it probably wasn’t his cup of tea. No matter, Zayn had gotten them tickets to see a band that Liam _knew_ and _liked_. All because Zayn had been kind enough to lend Liam an (admittedly ill-fated) iPod for a week.

“You want to go, right?” Zayn said, for confirmation.

Liam responded by wrapping his arms around Zayn’s neck and leaning in for another enthusiastic kiss.

***

Liam hadn’t been surrounded by so many teenagers at one time…ever. Literally ever. Not even during high school. It was intimidating and exhilarating all at once (mostly intimidating, if he was being honest) but Zayn was right there the whole time, hand clasped tightly around Liam’s, leading the way through the dense crowd like a salmon fighting his way upstream. Liam cringed away from the tattooed, pierced, sweaty bodies around him and thought back to Danielle’s party with grim humor. And he’d thought _that_ was overwhelming.  Liam mumbled polite, slightly nervous _sorry_ s and _excuse me_ s when he stepped on people’s toes or knocked their shoulders, but most seemed totally unbothered by his presence. In that respect, at least, this whole concert scene was just like high school. Liam was invisible, and he liked it that way.

When he and Zayn finally made it from the entrance gates to the lawn—a tall, sloping hill that rose up the back of the amphitheater--the crowd thinned and Liam began to breathe more easily.

“All right?” Zayn asked, checking Liam over his shoulder.

“P-peachy,” Liam responded lightly.

“You and the sarcasm, lately,” Zayn said fondly, and jerked his head in the direction of the hill. “We can go to the top. It’ll be easier to see.”

Liam obediently followed Zayn up the hill and plopped down on a (thankfully dry) patch of grass next to him.

“Good?” Zayn asked.

Liam looked out on the basin beneath him—from the green slope, littered with clusters of friends, to the seats, where streams of people were still filing into rows, and finally to the stage, where the openers were already starting their set. The smell of greasy food and cigarette smoke and a hint of weed was rising from the whole lot of it and there was so much _noise_. But at this safe distance, Liam didn’t necessarily have to be right in the thick of things. It…was kind of the best.

“Imp-p-portant part of the t-teen-eenage experience,” Liam said.

Zayn nodded sagely. “Indeed.”

“”I’m just p-packing all those int-to my l-last summer of t-teenhood,” Liam joked.

“Better late than never,” Zayn said.

“Mmm,” Liam agreed, leaning to rest the side of his head against Zayn’s. This summer, Liam mused, really had been some kind of magic. Here Liam was with his boyfriend, at his first concert, in some strange city hundreds of miles from where he’d grown up. It was like…the weirdest Cinderella-story, teen-summer-love experience ever. Liam was definitely okay with that.

 

If Liam thought the crowd had been rowdy while the opener was playing, it was nothing compared to when the Arctic Monkeys came onstage. Liam seriously considered clapping his hands over his ears before deciding that would a) be totally lame, and b) requiring extricating his hand from Zayn’s, which he was less than willing to do. While the population density was slightly lower on the hill than in other parts of the venue, there were still a lot of people around.

Regardless, once the band actually started playing, Liam found it difficult to worry about the people encroaching on his personal space. Hearing music live was so different than listening to it through headphones. There was this incredibly energy thrumming through the whole place that made Liam want to get up and dance, or at the very least, flail around a bit. Something he’d _definitely_ never had the urge to do before. Although, Liam supposed that’s what all that _moshing_ was about. From his perch on the hill, Liam could see the entanglement of people in the pit, moving about like some giant, many-limbed beast. Liam wouldn’t claim that he was _that_ into the music, but. Whereas the mere sight of such a throng would have been nothing short of terrifying at one point in his life, now Liam thought he could understand the feeling a bit.

Was it possible that Liam felt… _connected_ to the mass of adolescence around him?

“C-can we. Um.”

Zayn tore his eyes away from the stage to look at Liam curiously. “What’s up?”

“Can we go…” Liam pointed towards the stage.

Liam didn’t know Zayn’s eyebrows could rise so high.

“Sorry?” Zayn asked, seeming to have thought he must’ve misheard. A reasonable assumption.

“Not in th-the pit,” Liam clarified hastily. “J-just…closer?”

“I—sure. Of course, yeah.” Zayn sprang to his feet and made a sweeping motion with his arms. “You lead the way. We can go as close as you want.”

Liam, feeling empowered, led the way back down the hill and politely picked his way through a meandering hot dog line to reach the back row of seats. Most people had left their chairs to enter the pit, or else were standing to see the show. Liam looked back to ascertain that Zayn was still following him. Seeing that he was, Liam braved his way all the way to the first section, just twenty or thirty feet from the edge of the pit—the nucleus of this whole community of observers. Liam stopped abruptly at a safe distance away from them and turned back to grin hesitantly at Zayn, who looked nothing short of delighted.

“I didn’t think you’d want to do this!” Zayn shouted over the noise of the crowd.

“Me n-neither!” Liam confessed, equally loudly. God, when was the last time Liam had shouted? Everything was so _loud_. So fucking loud and tightly packed and bright—Liam turned back towards the horde in front of the stage and tried vehemently to repress the sensation of impending anxiety. He wanted to be here, right? Maybe he didn’t belong here, though, and maybe this had been some mistake—

Zayn wrapped his arms around Liam from behind and rested his chin on Liam’s shoulder.

“We’ll stay as long as you want,” Zayn promised. “Okay? I'm right here.”

Liam nodded and brought his hands up to link with Zayn’s. A deep breath. He could do this.

***

Liam had never felt like such a teenager. A _real_ teenager. In the hour that he spent hovering on the periphery of the pit, Liam felt, for the first time, like he was part of something. Not something of any real consequence, of course, but _something_. A group of people brought together with the common aim of letting go and having fun and being young.

Dear god, Liam’s inner monologue was starting to sound like a cheesy pop song. He’d overshot becoming a teenager and arrived somewhere in the vicinity of _tween_.

No matter, when they arrived back at Zayn’s place at the end of the night, Liam was still jittery with residual excitement.

“Th-that was t-totally amaz-azing!” he raved to Zayn for the dozenth time, collapsing onto Zayn’s bed, spread-eagled.

“Yeah, they’re pretty great live,” Zayn said, removing his shoes. “I’m glad you had fun. You are getting dirt on my sheets, though.”

“Oops.” Liam kicked off his own shoes without even lifting his head.

Zayn snorted. “Tired?”

Liam heaved himself up into a sitting position to face Zayn and shook his head. “N-not even a l-li-ittle bit.”

“Well, I’m sure we can come up with something to do,” Zayn said in a voice that sent shivers down Liam’s spine and _would_ have been intimidating, if not for the joking smile on Zayn’s face.

“Really?” Liam said, deciding halfway through the word to try sounding coy, but only ended up sounding confused instead.

Zayn rolled his eyes and crooked his finger. “Come here.”

Liam sprang happily up from the bed and went to go stand in front of Zayn, bouncing on his heels.

“I was really proud of you tonight,” said Zayn, taking hold of Liam’s hands and bringing them up to drop a kiss onto Liam’s knuckles. “I know it couldn’t’ve been easy, going up there and being around all those people with all that _noise_.” Zayn shook his head with amazement. “You never cease to surprise me, you know that?”

Liam flushed, basking in the praise, knowing that he had the stupidest grin across his face. He couldn’t even care. “Only b-because you w-were there,” Liam said. “It’s less s-s-scary...when you’re th-there.” Everything was less scary when Zayn was there. Zayn, with his encouraging words and gentle touches. Above all else, Zayn was always soft with Liam, who--he _needed_ that, given...given his past. For that, Liam owed Zayn more than he could ever say or do in return.

But that didn’t mean Liam wouldn’t try. He leaned forward to kiss Zayn, taking note, in the fleeting moment before their lips met and his eyes closed, that Zayn was smiling. Zayn _liked_ it when Liam was a more active participant in the physical affection. That made Zayn happy. Well, Liam could work with that.

Zayn emitted a noise of pleasant surprise when Liam attempted to maintain control of the kiss--Liam had no idea how or what he was doing, but whatever. There had to be a first time for everything. He wrapped his arms around Zayn’s neck and pressed in closer, his heart thumping so rapidly, so heavily in his chest that Liam was worried Zayn could maybe hear it. Or at least _feel_ it, given that their torsos were flush against each other.

The only coherent thoughts racing through Liam’s mind were _oh fuck did I do that right_ and _please don’t let me be messing this up to horribly_ , but Zayn seemed...kinda into it. If Liam was reading those noises correctly. Seriously, he couldn’t have been doing too stellar of a job (Liam would have felt more comfortable with his bearings if he was trying to find a needle in a haystack blindfolded with his hands tied behind his back) but was that--was that a moan? Liam was in no state of mind to be sure, really. He felt Zayn’s hands come to rest on his waist and that wasn’t entirely unpleasant, but Liam could feel his shirt riding up and the pads of Zayn’s thumbs on his hips. Liam’s breath hitched.

“This okay?” Zayn asked in this--this ludicrously husky voice and Liam almost let out a hysterical laugh. Only choking on his nerves prevented him from doing so.

Given that Liam couldn’t really muster up the power of speech right now, he just nodded jerkily, unsure what he was getting himself into. _Let him do what he wants_ , part of Liam reasoned. _It’s Zayn, he’s not going to hurt you. And look--he’s_ enjoying _this, don’t ruin it. Keep going, stupid!_

Liam realized a moment later that by “this” Zayn meant his hands under Liam’s shirt. Specifically, all of his hands, now. Which, okay. This was Liam’s first experience with skin-on-skin touching below any article of clothing, but this was safe, right? It was just his stomach, and his sides, and his back. For the love of--was there anywhere Zayn _wasn’t_ touching him right now?

 _Just go with it_ , Liam reminded himself. Zayn was his boyfriend, he was supposed to want this. This was romantic, in a way, yes? Yeah, this was romance, this was what Liam had been aiming for, being able to make Zayn make  _that_ noise. Liam shivered.

“Okay?” Zayn checked again, forming the words with his mouth still right against Liam’s.

Liam nodded, because he definitely wasn’t panicking.

Was _not_.

“Here,” Zayn murmured against his lips, and before Liam could even register what was going on, they were turned so that Liam was leaning against the door. He vaguely felt Zayn’s thumb stroking across his hip in what Liam was _sure_ was supposed to be a soothing manner, but only drew Liam’s attention back to the fact that there was so much touching. It was a lot of touching.

Also, Liam was against the door now. He could feel the unforgiving wood pressed right up against his spine and there was literally no way out. Liam felt his breath coming more rapidly now because this felt familiar. Sickeningly familiar. Just as Liam was thinking maybe he should say something, Zayn lifted one of his hands from Liam’s hips towards his face.

In retrospect, Liam knew that he should have realized what Zayn was doing--going to cup his cheek, or his neck, or offer some other reassuring touch--but in that moment, Liam saw nothing but a fist in his shirt, pushing him back towards another unforgiving surface, bracketing him in, no way out. There was never a way out for Liam. Stupid, unforgivable boy, trapped. Always trapped. His father’s face, inches away from his own, unchecked anger written across every line of his face.

Liam whimpered. Honest to god, thoroughly pathetic, animal stuck in a trap _whimpered_.

 _Let me out,_ he thought desperately, _please,_ please _go away. Please._ He couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t breathe...

Suddenly, there was so much open space. With the deep, shuddering breath of a man resurfacing from underwater, Liam blinked and remembered where he was. His arms were no longer around Zayn’s neck, but dangling uselessly at his sides. Because Zayn was now at least an arm’s length away, looking at Liam like he’d grown a second head.

Maybe, Liam thought dimly, because he was trembling so violently that it felt like his knees were going to give out. How had he not noticed until right now?

God, though, Liam had been so sure...he’d felt exactly like...fuck. Just, fuck.

Liam heard another strangled, sad noise come from his throat and hid his face in his hands, trying desperately not to start crying.

“Liam?  _Liam_.” Zayn was trying to regain his attention without coming any closer. Liam swallowed and looked up to see Zayn holding his hands up in the air, palms out. His eyes were wide and scared. About as scared as Liam felt right now. Liam wrapped his arms protectively around himself and tried to curl away from the door without getting any closer to Zayn, either. Not that it worked too well.

“Liam, are you okay? _Please_ say something,” Zayn pleaded, now looking like he might cry, too.

Liam opened his mouth and found he could force nothing out. _Shut the fuck up_ seemed to be stuck on replay in the back of his mind. _Faggot, faggot. Shut the fuck up_. Liam sank his teeth into his lower lip so hard it _hurt_.

“Liam, talk to me,” Zayn commanded gently, inching his way closer but still not touching Liam. “You gotta talk to me, dude. I’m so, _so_ sorry for scaring you. _Please_ tell me what’s wrong so I can fix it.”

Fix it, Liam mentally scoffed, feeling even crazier now, if that was possible. How the fuck did Zayn think he could fix it? Hadn’t Liam just proven to both of them that he would never, _never_ be good at this, no matter how much time they gave it? Way to go, Liam. Another monumental fuck up, courtesy of your fucked-up head. Ruining things that are meant to be _good_.

“Liam, I’m sorry,” Zayn was saying now with an expression of heartbreaking guilt on his face that had Liam wanting to close his eyes. “I’m so sorry.”

“N-n-no,” Liam finally made himself say, shaking his head. “No, y-you di-i-idn’t-- _I_ \--” Liam took a frustrated breath. “I d-didn’t w-w-want...but…”

“You--you didn’t want to what? Kiss me?”

Liam shook his head violently and reached up to tug at his hair. “N-no. Just n-n-not all the...all the oth-ther…”

“All the touching?”

Liam nodded once, curtly, looking at the floor.

“Did I...did I force myself on you?” Zayn asked, hollowly. “I thought--Jesus fuck--”

“No!” Liam insisted. "Y-you _didn't_. But." He was still trying to get his whole body to stop quivering so damn much, but it wasn’t working out all that well. “I j-just…”

Liam chance a glance up at Zayn, whose lips were slightly parted, a dangerously fiery look in his eyes. Liam shrank back against the door.

“So you’re telling me,” Zayn said with blatantly forced calm, “that you didn’t want us to go as far as we did. But instead of telling me to stop, you let me--and _told_ me you were okay with it.”

Liam drew his collar up over his mouth with one hand and wrapped the other around his stomach. So this was it. Bearing the brunt of Zayn’s anger full-force, just as he’d always feared he eventually would (the cruel irony that it should happen when Liam was actually doing what he thought he was supposed to do was not lost on him).

“To the point,” Zayn continued, positively crackling with anger, “that you had some kind of...of panic attack. That you were _terrified_ of me when we were-- _fuck_ , Liam. You can’t _lie_ to me about your consent on something like this. How could you _possibly_ think that was--”

Quite suddenly, Zayn’s rant came grinding to a halt. In the silence, Liam heard himself sniff, and it occurred to him that there was something wet on his face.

Ah, perfect, just what this moment needed. As if Liam wasn’t humiliated enough as it was. With his still-lowered gaze, Liam watched Zayn’s feet move across the room, pause at his desk, and then come to right in front of Liam.

“Liam.” Zayn’s voice was inexplicably quiet now, and Liam couldn’t help wonder where all the anger had gone. He looked up, mostly in confusion, to find that Zayn was holding out a wad of tissues. Liam took them gratefully and wiped at his face.

“Z-Zayn…” he began, but didn’t know where to go with it. Didn’t know what he could possibly say to ameliorate the situation.

“It’s okay,” Zayn promised, still in that low voice. “It’s okay, Liam.”

Liam nodded, even though things were decidedly _not_ okay. Far from it.

“We should get you home,” Zayn said.

Liam nodded again, mostly just to agree. He kept his eyes fixed on the ground as Zayn gathered up his keys and wallet, and collected Liam’s shoes from beside the bed. Liam murmured a quiet _thank you_ for the shoes, slipped them on, and followed a stoic Zayn out of the house.

***

Liam felt nothing but relief when they pulled up outside his apartment. The car ride had been, in a word, excruciating. With Zayn, Liam was coming to realize, silent car rides always were. Liam fidgeted with his hands in his lap, unsure what to do with them without Zayn holding one over the gearshift, and there weren’t radio stations to flip through.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?” Zayn said, sounding less enthusiastic than he normally did about the prospect.

Liam nodded dismally.

“Hey, Liam.”

Liam looked up.

“It’s okay. We’re okay.” Zayn tried for a smile and achieved something more akin to a grimace.

All this leaving Liam more doubtful than ever before, he simply nodded and exited the vehicle. It was rather astonishing, Liam thought, how quickly you could grow used to goodnight kisses.

Upstairs, Niall was already asleep in his bedroom, but Liam still headed straight for the bathroom, the place in the apartment with more walls and distance between himself and Niall than anywhere else. Force of habit carried him to the corner of the room by the toilet, where he curled up with a handful of toilet paper and waited for the sobs to subside.

A half-hour later, Liam emerged feeling dehydrated and exhausted. Pulling out his phone to set the alarm for work in the morning, Liam was disappointed, though not altogether surprised to find he had another missed call from his mother.

Liam resolutely ignored it. He could only be expected to handle so many life crises at once, Liam thought.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So in a random spurt of productivity, here is chapter 9, surprisingly early. Sorry about the ending, I know. But hopefully chapter 10 will follow equally as quickly. Also, thank you to MedusianAllure for her continued support/beta-ship, and to AnAwesomeChick for her idea of having Lou and Harry place bets on Liam and Zayn.


	10. Part 10

“What’s up with you and Zayn lately?”

Liam whirled around to find Niall standing behind him with crossed arms and a firm expression.

“Don’t _do_ tha-at,” Liam scolded, holding a hand to his chest like that might help restart his heart. “Jesus, Niall.”

“Sorry,” Niall muttered, having the decency to look a little guilty. “But seriously, what’s going on?”

Liam turned back to the dumpster he had been pushing and started making his way to the next trashcan. Niall followed.

“Nothing,” Liam dismissed as he lifted the lid off the trashcan and tied up the bag.

“Please, Liam, I’m your best friend,” Niall scoffed. “Give me a little credit.”

Liam shrugged and hoisted the dripping bag into the dumpster without meeting Niall’s eyes.

“Liam. Something’s wrong. Lou and Harry have noticed, too. I’m worried.”

Niall wasn’t exactly telling Liam anything he didn’t already know. His coworkers were, after all, irritatingly observant. Three days of being a bit more subdued than usual and they’d already sent Niall in for the inquisition. Although, to be fair, another tip-off was the fact that Zayn hadn’t been showing up to lunch these past few days. He’d been citing his short fifteen-minute breaks as an excuse, but none of them were buying it, least of all Liam.

“That’s p-probab-obably my b-business,” Liam pointed out, wiping his hands on his jeans to remove the garbage juice.

The look that Niall gave Liam could only be described as a _bitch, please_ face. “Were you not listening to that last bit? Best friend? Worried? I just want to know: am I knocking Zayn’s teeth out, or not?” Niall rubbed the knuckles of one hand threateningly (not that this made him look much more intimidating than Dennis the Menace).

“No! Niall. That’s…” Liam sighed. “It w-was my f-f-fault, okay?”

“What?” Like Niall couldn’t comprehend such a thing. Liam turned away and started pushing the dumpster up the pathway to the Flume.

“My fault,” Liam repeated because Niall was still following him. “Ok-k-kay? So don’t...y-you know.”

“Liam. _Liam_.” Niall gently took hold of Liam’s arm and turned him round. If anything, he looked more concerned than ever. “Liam, I know you would never do anything to intentionally hurt Zayn,” he said confidently.

“And Z-Zayn would never t-t-try to hurt _me_ ,” Liam said fiercely, because much as he appreciated Niall's loyalty, it could make him really clueless sometimes. “But sh-shit happens. ‘kay? I m-m-messed up. B-bad.” Liam tried looking determined but the imminent threat of tears was working against him.

Niall looked chastened. “Sorry, I--I’m sorry,” he said. “I shouldn’t have pried. I’m sorry.”

Liam nodded his acceptance of the apology and resumed pushing the dumpster halfheartedly up the hill.

“But,” Niall continued, evidently in a relentless mood today, “is there anything I can do to help? Make you feel better?”

Liam softened, looking dolefully back at Niall, and shook his head.

“Okay,” Niall conceded. “But, just so you know. People go through rough patches. I’m sure you and Zayn will be fine, whatever it is. And you can always come talk to me if...if that’s what you want.”

Liam, unable to restrain himself even for the sake of professionalism, pulled Niall into a tight hug.

“Thank y-you,” he murmured.

“Any time, bro,” said Niall bracingly. He hovered awkwardly for a moment, and Liam rolled his eyes.

“You can g-go rep-port back to Lou and H-Harry,” he said, and Niall smiled embarrassedly.

“Right. I’ll just be off, then.” And with that, Niall strode purposefully back to the filter room.

Things had been, for lack of a better word, tense between Liam and Zayn for the past few days. Zayn wasn’t _unfriendly_ towards him, and Liam was cautiously accepting of Zayn's politeness when they saw each other at work. But there was an undercurrent of discomfort whenever they crossed paths, and Liam couldn’t so much as look at his boyfriend without feeling both exceedingly nervous and exceedingly guilty.

With Zayn MIA during lunch, they hardly saw each other at the waterpark, and there had been no hanging out outside of work. And no touching. Like, none. No hello or goodbye kisses, or hand-holding, or anything. Zayn seemed to think that the merest brush of skin might cause Liam to shatter, whereas Liam was not brave enough to initiate any contact after the incident in Zayn’s bedroom. Especially not when the sparse conversations he’d had with Zayn were full of clipped tones and terse sentences. Every time he saw Zayn, Liam was reminded of what he’d done, how he’d basically lied to Zayn, and fucked all this up. Zayn was one of the few people in the world that Liam trusted fully and unconditionally, and he’d jeopardized Zayn’s trust in him. So much so, if the last three days were any indication, that Zayn was in no mood to be around Liam. It was miserable.

The one time Liam had actually tried to broach the topic at work, while picking up lunch for the other boys, Zayn had immediately shut him down. “I’m not mad,” was his first assurance, which Liam would’ve believed a bit more strongly if the following words were not, “I just need a bit of time, okay?” Liam had only nodded, picked up the trays of food, and slunk back to the filter room.

Of _course_ the others had started to notice. Every time Liam turned around, Harry was fixing him with a Look, the one that foreshadowed a heart-to-heart where Liam would inevitably spill his guts (and maybe a few tears). Consequently, Liam was making as little eye contact with Harry as possible. Louis had tried on more than one occasion to hang back and talk to Liam, who was forced to feign excuses and slip guiltily away under the guise of some Simon-assigned task. Danielle had even asked Liam whether something was wrong with Zayn when he went to go pick up his paycheck on Saturday.

“He just seemed really grim this morning,” she’d noted while Liam stood awkwardly by, wishing she would just hand over the envelope so he could flee the room.

“D-dunno,” Liam had lied, reaching out to take his paycheck.

Liam was doing a lot of lying, lately. He didn’t like it. Not one bit.

***

 _Liam peered around the doorframe into his parents’ bedroom, where his mom was lounging on the bed, reading a book. Her hair was done up in curlers and her feet clad in slippers. She looked so comfortable and relaxed that Liam fleetingly considered simply going to bed. But…but she had_ asked _him to come see her after he’d finished clearing the dishes. And it had sounded serious. She had waited until Liam’s father was already out in the car, on his way to poker night at a friend’s house. That did not bode well._

_Liam had reluctantly agreed, taking as much time as possible with the dishes after that, but there was only so many times he could wipe down the same three plates and sets of silverware. With fingertips like prunes, Liam had wiped his hands on his jeans and headed upstairs with the creeping sensation that he was headed for the gallows._

_Liam was about to slip back into the dark hallway when his mother looked up from her book and gave Liam one of those tender smiles she always reserved just for him. His heart somersaulted. Maybe this wasn’t about to be so bad. “Liam, come in.” She waved him in and put her book facedown on her lap. Liam crept cautiously into the room and sat down cross-legged on his father’s side of the bed. Liam tried not to focus too much on the fact that the pillow and duvet smelled like_ him _, because that only brought his nerves back full-force._

_“I wanted to talk to you because I found something when I was collecting your laundry today,” his mother explained._

_Liam kept his eyes fixed on the book on his mother’s lap and scratched the back of one hand with the nails of the other. He nodded jerkily to show that he’d heard._

_After a moment, Liam’s mother reached over to her nightstand and opened the drawer, drawing out one of his notebooks. Liam’s lips parted in horror._

_“I saw it on your desk,” she went on, flipping open to one of the last pages Liam had been scribbling in yesterday. Having located the page she was searching for, Liam’s mother flipped the notebook to show Liam. Not that there remained any doubt in his mind as to what had caught her attention. Sure enough, there it was: four little letters, written out with more care than anything else in the notebook. A name surrounded with a carefully sketched heart. Something that he should have blotted out with Sharpie immediately after drawing, but. But Liam’d thought it kind of pretty, and he’d thought certainly one day of keeping it around couldn’t hurt._

_Liam was an idiot._

_“So, this Andy.” Liam’s mother readjusted herself on her pillows. “You...have feelings for him? Don’t lie to me, Liam,” she tacked on when Liam made to shake his head._

_Liam opened his mouth but not a sound came out. How long had it been since he’d said something aloud to his mother? His heart was beating erratically and maybe, Liam thought, this was a sign that he was meant to hold his silence. Liam settled for nodding, eyes back on the novel in his mother's lap. She would break its spine holding it open like that, he thought absently._

_“Is he…in one of your classes?”_

_Liam gulped, and nodded again, quickly, like ripping the band-aid off._

_Liam’s mother brought her hand to rest over his, putting a stop to the incessant scratching. Liam looked down to find the back of his hand flaky and red with irritation._

_He heard his mother take a deep, steadying breath. “Well,” she began thoughtfully. “The semester’s almost over.” Liam looked up at her quizzically. “This doesn't have to be a big deal, Liam. No one has to know.”_

_Liam felt like someone had reached into his chest and given his heart a sharp twisting squeeze._

_“These things happen,” she said bracingly. “It’s okay, Liam. You haven’t told anyone about this?”_

_Liam shook his head numbly._

_“Okay. Okay, that’s good. I just don’t want you getting hurt.”_

_Liam met his mother’s eyes to find that they were filled with consternation. “No one has to know,” she repeated. “Okay?” She patted him on the hand, and Liam took that as his cue to leave. He stood up, unsure whether to take the notebook back, but his mother stuck it back in her nightstand drawer and Liam supposed that was that. He slunk back out into the hallway and returned to his room. He cocooned himself in his duvet and nestled his head into the pillow, unable to dispel the gnawing feeling in his gut._

She’s just looking out for you, _Liam reminded himself._ This…this kind of carelessness could really get you hurt. She’s protecting you. That’s what mothers do.

Right _, Liam thought firmly. That’s all it was. Realistically, maybe this was the best things could’ve gone. He couldn’t even imagine what would’ve happened if his_ father _had been the one to find his notebook. All hell would’ve broken loose._

_But his mother said that no one had to know._

***

When Harry approached him after clocking out that afternoon, Liam was far from in the mood to talk.

“D-don’t,” he advised Harry and held up a hand wearily. “Niall’s al-already been here.”

“Oh, Niall’s already told us everything you said, don’t worry,” Harry assured him offhandedly. “That’s not why I’m here. We were going to go back to Lou’s place after work if you wanted to hang out. Niall’s coming with.” Doubtless a maneuver to keep an eye on Liam (which was, at once, both annoying and touching).

Liam shifted his weight uncertainly. “And Zayn…?”

Harry shrugged. “Haven’t invited him. He doesn’t have to come, if you…”

Liam wasn’t taking the bait. “Some other t-time,” he promised.

Harry wasn’t having it. “Liam.” Totally deadpan. “Come.”

Liam respectfully reminded Harry that the last time Liam'd been pressured into a social situation, he’d ended up plastered for the first (and hopefully last) time in his life. And that Harry was the one who had to wrestle him into bed.

“We’re just going to be hanging out, watching TV,” Harry wheedled. “No alcohol. Just good, wholesome fun.” He flashed Liam with a blinding grin before adding on a polite, “Please.”

Liam relented, if only because he was also not in the mood to spend extended periods of time alone today. Calls from his mother, it seemed, had that effect on him (nine and counting, now).

Harry led the way out to the parking lot, where Louis and Niall were already seated in Louis’ car blasting...something just _awful_ from the speakers through the open windows.

“Lou, please!” Harry shouted over the music, hands over his ears. Liam winced. He could literally feel the bass pounding through him as he approached the car.

Louis reluctantly turned the music down as the other two clambered into the back seats.

“But I like that one,” he sulked, looking at Harry rather than the surrounding vehicles in the rearview mirror as he pulled out.

“I think I see Liam’s brain oozing out his ears, love,” Harry countered gently. “Something quiet for the ride home, yeah?”

Louis acquiesced, putting on some classical music (to which Harry rolled his eyes but dared not complain, lest Louis return to blaring whatever rap nightmare had been his first selection).

Entering Louis’s flat was what Liam suspected it would be like to actually enter Louis’s head. It was absolute disarray, from the piles of clothes spilling out of the open drying machine, to the posters that were peeling off the wall, to the table of both dirty and clean dishes, to the many stray items on the floor Liam had to carefully avoid with his feet. There was also, inevitably, a lot of Harry. Harry’s shoes (recognizable by the fact that they were about four sizes larger than Louis’s), Harry’s shirt draped over the back of the couch, Harry in pictures both with and without Louis.

“Do y-you live here?” Liam asked as Harry picked his way over the clutter to the couch with practiced ease.

Harry smiled. “No. Well, not technically. But my parents are so used to me being gone during the school year that they hardly notice I move into Lou’s over the summer.”

“Doesn’t pay rent though, does he?” Louis noted, emphasizing the point by throwing a pillow directly at Harry’s face and nearly knocking the already-askew shade off a nearby lamp.

“Oh, please,” said Harry. Directed at Liam, “I don’t have to pay rent because Lou  _needs_ me around to keep up this charade that he’s a functioning adult.”

“That...is fair, actually.” Louis shrugged. “The apartment is always so much cleaner when Haz is around, at the very least.”

Liam raised an eyebrow and opted not to say anything.

Harry, taking note of Liam’s silent incredulity, laughed. “I know what you’re thinking,” he said. “And yes. So much worse.”

Niall meandered through the living room to take a seat opposite Harry in a deflated beanbag chair that, by the looks of things, had already lost most of its beans.

“I’m fucking exhausted,” he said, throwing an arm over his face theatrically. “How many more weeks of work do we have?”

“Depends,” Harry replied, picking up a lone cracker off the coffee table, blowing it off, and popping it in his mouth (Liam might have been disgusted, if he hadn’t seen Harry pick dirtier out of his overstuffed pockets at work to munch on). Liam, with great caution, went over to sit beside Harry on the couch. “When does your semester start?”

“Um.” Niall pondered. “Second of September? Third? Who can remember.”

“Fourth, according to Zayn,” Louis corrected from the kitchen where he was making tea. Liam tried not to flinch at the mention of his boyfriend (he could feel Harry and Niall’s eyes momently flick over to him). “So, like, exactly three weeks then.”

“Lucky,” Harry grumbled, directing his attention away from Liam. “I move in the twenty-fifth.”

Niall let out a low whistle. “Fuck, so next week’s your last, innit?”

Harry nodded solemnly. “Summer’s gone fast.”

“Yeah, but you’ll have a great time at school, dude,” Niall said spiritedly. “And you’re only, what? An hour’s drive away?”

Harry smirked. “Forty-five minutes, if Louis drives.”

“Meh,” Niall flapped his hand unconcernedly. “That’s closer than you were in high school, even. You won’t even miss us.” Niall turned to Liam with a world-weary expression to say, “We go through this every year.”

“Excuse _me_ for missing you, fucker,” Harry said pettishly.

Niall stood up and reached over to ruffle his hair calmatively. Harry looked slightly appeased.

Liam was still stuck on the part of the conversation where Harry had announced that he would be leaving in less than two weeks. How had Liam not considered this before? Of course he’d always known that they would leave him behind eventually, all go back to school while he found someplace new to work for the fall. Of course Niall would be around, and hopefully Zayn, but they would have schoolwork to complete, college social events to attend, lives to live. Louis would be in school across town, and Harry nearly an hour’s drive away. None of them were moving insurmountable distances away, but now that it was actually happening, Liam realized how completely unprepared he was to see his new little family disperse. And what if he and Zayn didn’t smooth things over by the time Zayn went away to school? What if Zayn met some nice, normal boy who wasn’t completely horrendous at relationships, and forgot all about Liam?

“Liam.”

Liam’s head jerked up at his name to find Louis holding a mug of tea in front of his nose.

“You okay, man?” Harry said, head cocked to the side apprehensively.

Liam nodded and took the cup of tea gratefully.

“Nothing’s really going to change,” Niall said brashly, either reassuring Liam or Harry. Or both.

As if the universe was intent on proving him wrong right then and there, Niall’s phone began to ring. He hopped up to remove it from his back pocket. “Hello?”

Silence fell, during which Niall’s face went from confused, to surprised, to downright delighted.

“Shit, are you serious? Oh my god. Yeah, that’s--yeah. When?” Liam watched Niall card his fingers through his hair. “Wow. That’s great. What’s his name?” Niall’s smile, if possible, grew even wider. “Sure! Absolutely. I’ll be there later tonight. No, bus is fine. Yeah, totally. Can’t wait to meet him. Tell Mom I said hi, love you. Okay. Okay. See you soon. Bye.”

Niall hung up and fixed Harry, Louis, and Liam, who were all watching him with the utmost attention, with a blinding smile.

“Guess who just became a big brother?” he exclaimed.

“Oh, Niall!” Harry was exuberant.

Louis emitted some sort of high pitched noise of excitement that caused Liam to flinch. Liam watched as the other two gathered Niall into a group hug, practically smashing Niall between them. After Niall emerged, breathing heavily and still smiling for all the world, he locked eyes with Liam. Liam grinned in return and drew his best friend in for a more civilized embrace.

“C-Congr-grats,” he murmured in Niall’s ear.

“Thanks, dude.” Niall’s eyes were sparkling when they drew apart. “Well, I’ve got to go catch a bus, then,” he announced. “Got to go meet Greg! Greg, that’s his name,” he explained needlessly. “Who’s going to drive me to the station?”

“I will,” Louis volunteered, already twirling his key ring around one finger. “We need to swing by your place on the way?”

“Nah, I’ve got clothes at home.” And with that, Niall bounded out the door, Louis hot on his heels.

The flurry of excitement having abruptly ended, Liam and Harry were left in silence.

“Well,” Harry said, looking both overwhelmed and exceedingly pleased. “That was...something.”

Liam nodded in agreement.

“Niall’s got a little brother,” Harry said, as if the information was just now sinking in. “Exciting. I suppose he’ll be gone for a few days. Should text Nick and see if he can take Niall’s shift tomorrow.”

Harry whipped out his phone and retreated into Louis’s room, and Liam was left standing awkwardly by himself. He went back to curl up on the couch, feeling inexplicably empty. Niall had just received the news of the summer. He had a new sibling, for Chrissakes. What kind of best friend was Liam, that he couldn’t be properly happy for Niall? Liam brought his knees up to his chest and rested his chin on them, trying to force himself to feel something other than sadness, which was a stupid thing to feel. Liam couldn’t say he was too surprised when it didn’t work.

When Harry returned, he was holding a blanket, presumably off Louis’s bed. Liam looked up at him quizzically.

“Movie?” Harry suggested, and Liam immediately agreed.

Harry went over to Louis’s movie collection (a stack of DVDs with no cases atop the TV) and picked out...something. Liam had never heard of it, but he didn’t particularly care just at the moment. Harry popped the movie into the player and returned to the couch, where he sidled right up next to Liam and pulled the blanket around them. Liam uttered a slight _oomf_ of surprise when Harry draped a gangly arm around him and pulled him in close.

“Your toes are cold,” Harry complained good-naturedly, scraping his own long toenails against the top of Liam’s feet. Liam counterattacked by pressing his frigid toes into Harry’s shins. Harry mock-shuddered. Liam jostled him playfully.

“Hush now,” Harry placated, even though Liam hadn’t said anything. “Watch the movie.”

Liam didn’t pay much attention to the movie, and he was pretty sure Harry himself fell asleep for about a half an hour somewhere in the middle. But Liam appreciated the gesture anyway. It was Harry saying _it’s okay, we’re here for you_ and _things change, but it will be okay_. By the end of the night, long after Louis had arrived back from dropping off Niall, and Liam had lost several rounds of cards with _Saturday Night Live_ playing in the background (Harry had since fallen asleep for the night), Liam was actually feeling significantly better.

It wasn’t until Liam arrived back to an empty apartment that the loneliness settled in his gut once again. And it wasn’t until he pulled out his phone to set the alarm for work in the morning that he noticed the voicemail.

A voicemail.

What the actual fuck?

She’d never left a voicemail before.

Should he...what should he do? Curiosity was threatening to overtake Liam like a tidal wave, but there were reasons why he hadn’t been paying attention to his mother’s calls. Liam couldn’t remember any of them right at the moment, but they definitely...they definitely existed. Niall didn’t like his mother, Liam reminded himself. Right? Yeah. (Drawing on outside sources to help make this decision was definitely a lot easier than picking apart his own entanglement of feelings.)

Liam sat on the couch in silence for five solid minutes before he finally caved.

_Liam it’s me. Your mother. Please call me back. Bye._

Liam didn’t realize his mouth was hanging open until he caught sight of his reflection in the TV screen.

That was it?

Liam didn’t really know what he’d been expecting.

No, you know what? This is _exactly_ what Liam should have expected. And if he’d actually hoped for anything different, well. Liam hadn’t really changed or grown or whatever the fuck he’d started to hope was happening after all these weeks.

Liam was starting to lose track of who he was angry with at the moment.

Irrationally, Niall, for leaving when Liam kind of really, desperately needed him here.

Louis and Harry (even more absurdly) for their imminent, unintentional abandonment.

Zayn, a bit, for freezing Liam out when all Liam wanted to do was figure things out _together_.

His mother, for all the emotional fuckery she was putting him through.

Mostly at himself, for being so irrationally angry and being too pathetic to actually do anything about it. Liam was, always _had_ been, and always _would_ _be_ , utterly pathetic.

As if to put the nail in the coffin, Liam shut off his phone, deciding to deal with all this by not dealing with it whatsoever.

***

_When Liam arrived home from classes, the first sound that met his ears was a loud thud from upstairs. Followed by a curse._

_Liam could already feel the perspiration collecting on his forehead. He let his backpack slide off his shoulder and onto the floor as quietly as possible._

_Already a lost cause. Liam’s father appeared at the top of the stairs with a fierce look in his eyes. “Thought I heard the door,” he said. “Get up here. Now.”_

_That was about the extent of what Liam recalled clearly about the day his father kicked him out. The rest was flashes of things Liam really had no desire to remember:_

_Arriving upstairs to find most of his belongings had already been haphazardly removed from their shelves and were lying in a pile on the floor._

_His father pointing at said pile, saying that now Liam was home, he could collect his own shit together._

_The realization, amidst the slurs, that his mother had divulged Liam’s most precious, most destructive secret to the most dangerous person in his life._

_The confusion, the betrayal, and--_ stupid, stupid Liam _\--the feeble hope that maybe his father had_ forced _it out of her, or found the notebook on his own._

_Fumbling on the floor for his duffle and struggling to unzip it with trembling fingers._

_The (stupid, stupid) hope that maybe Liam’s mother would arrive and save him._

_Yelling. So much yelling. (Why couldn’t his father leave him in peace, already?)_

_In between the words “idiotic” and “freak” (or at least, that’s what the word started to sound like) Liam’s knuckles colliding with his father’s jaw._

_(Liam didn’t remember deciding to do that.)_

_A series of painful blows that ended with Liam crumpled back on the floor._

Get the fuck out of my house.

I’m not having a fag for a son.

I want you and your shit gone by the time I get back.

 _The command to_ never _contact either his mother or his father again under any circumstances, as they would_ certainly _never be contacting Liam._

 

_Then, abruptly, Liam was alone._

_Still alone when, twenty minutes later, he’d collected everything he could carry and the sparse amount of money he’d been able to save in a box hidden in the back of his closet. Still alone when he let himself out the front door and walked to the bus station._

_Liam wasn’t sure where his mother was; there were a million places she_ could _be, after all. She would call him or text him or_ something _, he thought. As soon as she realized Liam was gone. She wouldn’t let his father do this. She would find him._

_***_

Liam awoke to a series of sharp knocks that he ignored.

Who on Earth was coming to call this early? Liam hadn’t even arisen for work yet, so it could only be, what? Sometime before eight. Liam rolled over and pressed his nose into the pillow, trying to block out the unusually intense sunlight pouring through the window—

Dear sweet Jesus.

Liam sat bold upright. What time was it? He reached over to check his phone before realizing, belatedly, that he’d turned it off last night, forgetting that he would need his alarm for the morning. Without Niall here to wake him, it seemed Liam had overslept. But by how much?

A quick dash over to the microwave and Liam emitted a dismayed groan. It was nearly eleven. Good god, he had to call Harry or Louis and have them tell Simon what had happened. Liam could get there in…ten minutes, if he dressed at top speed and ran to the waterpark.

Ah, but there was still someone at the door. Knocking _insistently_ now. They weren’t going away. It would be awkward if Liam emerged in two minutes after ignoring them.

Liam would just have to answer it and explain he had no time for whoever—

Oh.

Liam and his mother stared at each other with equal surprise. Which, really, Liam thought, was stupid. Why else would she be here, except to find him?

“Liam,” she breathed, like she was still unable to really believe it was him.

 _Hi_ , is what Liam tried to say, but it wouldn’t come out.

His mother smiled understandingly, because of course. The Liam she remembered didn’t really talk, did he?

“Your hair is different,” she commented lightly. “It looks good.”

Liam touched his fingertips to his hair uneasily.

“Can I come in?” his mother asked, peering over Liam’s shoulder to get a better look at the place.

Liam stood aside to let her pass, all the while demanding of himself, _What the fuck are you doing?_ Liam had no sufficient answer, and closed the door.

Well, he was already hours late for work. What did it matter?

Liam watched his mother meander slowly around the apartment. Poke her head in Niall’s room and the bathroom. Look out the window. Scrutinize the mess of pillows and blankets on the couch. Liam stood rooted to the spot by the door.

“Don’t look so scared,” his mother joked, catching sight of his undoubtedly deer-in-the-headlights expression. “Aren’t you happy to see your mother?”

The words _no_ and _yes_ simultaneously came to mind. Liam compromised with a dull stare.  _What are you doing here?_ he kept trying and failing to say. 

His mother’s joking expression slid off her face. She sighed wearily and dropped onto the couch. “Come here, Liam.”

Liam approached cautiously and sat a whole cushion away from his mother on the couch. She scooted uncomfortably closer and put a hand on his shoulder. Liam wasn’t sure whether he wanted to lean in or away, and fuck if that wasn’t the most confusing thing ever. Every thought of  _I thought you were through with her_ _, she betrayed you_ was overshadowed with  _but she's my mother, it's my_ mother _._

“You didn’t answer my calls,” was her first point, complete with a smile to soften the accusation. “I thought maybe you’d left your phone when…you left, but I couldn’t find it anywhere. I had to contact your friend Niall’s parents, in the end. Dug up an old school directory." She chuckled. Liam didn't. "Thought you might have gone to see him. They said you’ve been staying here for the summer?”

It wasn’t so much the words she said, as the _way_ she said them, like Liam had been off on vacation somewhere for the past few months. Liam hadn't known his mother even _remembered_ Niall. Although it wasn’t exactly like Liam had ever brought any other friends home.

“Mr. Horan told me they were in the hospital when I called. Just had another baby. Isn’t that something? How nice for Niall, to—”

“Y-you d-didn’t call.” Liam had finally got his throat unstuck. His mother’s mouth snapped shut as he looked at her reproachfully. “Not…n-not for w- _weeks_. N-no mes-s-ssages. _Nothing_.”

Liam was trying for a sharp, biting tone, he really was. Something to convey just the sheer amount of _hurt_ she’d caused him. He just ended up sounding wounded and scared.

His mother twisted her fingers distractedly in the sleeves of her sweater, and Liam tried not to dwell on how similar the two of them were.

“I thought,” she began, voice thick with emotion, “I thought you’d want your space. When I arrived home…that night, I assumed you’d come back. Come home, eventually. And then when you didn’t, I decided that if that was your choice, I should respect it. But I _did_ miss you, that’s why I eventually tried calling.”

Liam gulped. She’d missed him? Really, actually missed him?

 _Knew she would find you_ , a supremely self-satisfied corner of Liam’s mind sneered. _She’s your mother, stupid._

_Who quit trying to contact me after two calls? For several more weeks, with nothing?_

_You ignored her. What else was she supposed to do?_

_But…_

“But y-you’re here. N-n-now.”

Liam’s mother wore a pained expression. “Yes. Liam, there’s been…well. Something’s happened.” She gently took hold of Liam’s hands and folded them with her own over her knee. “Your father has, um. He’s been…incarcerated?” As if she wasn’t sure that was the right word to use.

Liam opened his mouth. Closed it. Opened it again, and closed it. Finally, “Huh?”

His mother nodded miserably. “He had several, erm, incidents at work. Fights with coworkers. Anger problems, you know how he could be.” Liam knew she didn’t mean it as a personal jab, but he couldn’t help flinching anyway. “It had been worse, these past couple of months. And a few weeks ago, two of the other mechanics approached him about it, and apparently there was some sort of…dispute.” Liam thought that was a rather delicate way to phrase whatever had gotten his father ‘incarcerated,’ which, by the sound of things, was probably aggravated assault. Or something to that effect.

“Idiot,” she said exasperatedly.

“How l-long?” was all Liam could say, and thankfully his mother didn’t have to ask what he meant.

“Fourteen months,” she responded tonelessly.

Liam didn’t know how to process that. He stared down at their linked hands in silence.

“I had tell you in person,” his mother went on. “That’s why I came here. And…to ask you to come home?”

Liam looked up sharply. “Wh-what?”

Liam’s mother gave him a pitying expression. “Liam, of course you need to come home. This…Being gone for the summer is one thing. But I can’t let my son sleep on someone else’s couch for the rest of his life.”

_And yet you could let your husband give your son multiple black eyes—_

“Liam. I’m your mother. I love you. Come home with me.”

Liam was floored. Was this even happening right now?

“B-but.” Liam could only manage shallow breathes. “Y-you didn't--My f-f-friends…”

“You can come and visit Niall any time you like,” she promised, putting a hand on his cheek. That was weird, Liam thought distractedly. Only Zayn did that.

Zayn. Holy shit, was Liam really considering leaving? _Zayn_ was here.

 _Please_ , came that venomous doubt, seeping in again. _You_  must _realize that you and Zayn are temporary. Look at the last week, if that’s any indication. Louis and Harry aren’t going to be around any more than he is, in a few weeks. Family is_ permanent _. This is your mother, for fuck’s sake. She wants you back. And your father’s a nonissue, now. He’s gone._ _  
_

Only for fourteen months, though. What then?

“It’s just you and me, Liam,” his mother said bracingly, putting on a brave smile. “We belong together; we’re family.”

And really, that’s all Liam had ever wanted to hear. That he was loved, that someone would really stick by his side. Maybe this whole “incarceration” business had really opened his mother’s eyes. She’d travelled hundreds of miles, presumably by bus, to come find Liam, after all. If that wasn’t her taking Liam’s side over his father’s, Liam didn’t know what was.

Liam had been kidding himself, running away from home and moving into his best friend’s apartment. Of _course_ that wasn’t the permanent solution to a problem. He was sleeping on Niall’s _couch_. Sure, a summertime arrangement, a fun adventure, maybe, but.

But in the end, _realistically_ , Liam really just belonged at home.

“Okay,” he agreed.

Liam’s mother looked relieved. “Good. That’s so good, Liam,” she said effusively. “Let’s get your things packed, yeah?”

***

Which was how Liam found himself sitting on a city bus, headed for the Greyhound Station, on a Tuesday afternoon when he should have been sitting in an attic, avoiding customers and his aloof boyfriend. His life was such a joke.

Liam’s mother had been asking him all sorts of questions about his summer while they packed and headed to the bus stop (between the two of them, they could still carry everything Liam owned). Liam tried to answer his mother as nicely as possible, but for one thing, it still went against his every instinct to speak in front of her. For another, the last thing he wanted to do was reminisce about his summer when he was leaving every part of it behind without even saying goodbye.

“You can call Niall on the bus ride home,” his mother suggested, trying to assuage Liam’s mounting guilt. Niall would be _furious_ with him. Liam fingered his phone nervously through the fabric of his pocket as the bus flew through a very close yellow light. He should at least text Niall, Liam thought. Liam had left his key on the ledge above the doorframe, and Niall would at the very least need to know where to retrieve it. He held down the button to turn on his phone while his mother talked about the quilting she’d been doing.

“With Cheryl—you remember Cheryl. We were on the PTA together years ago,” his mother was saying. Liam tried to be interested, but as soon as his phone lit up, a series of sharp buzzes alerted him to…

Eighteen messages? And seven voicemails. Holy shit. 

Liam opened his voicemail box first, and breathed a sigh of relief when he saw that most of them were from Louis and Harry, undoubtedly wondering why he hadn’t shown up to work today. Three were from Niall, all in the last hour. The last one was from Zayn.

Oh no. A quick click over to his text messages showed Liam that almost all of them seemed to be from Zayn and Niall. Mostly Zayn. Liam opened up his conversation with Zayn with great trepidation.

_hey lou and harry said you didnt show up to work today. where are you? text me back_

_lou harry and i are worried about you_

_are you coming in to work today?_

_liam…_

_answer your phone liam im serious_

_liam when you get this please text me back_

_liam if youre ignoring me because of this week thats seriously not cool please answer your phone_

_okay i didnt mean that last thing im not mad just call me ok?_

_niall just called me and i really need you to call me back_

_idk if you know this but your mom is on her way to your apartment_

_sorry that was creepy niall’s parents told him hes seriously worried about you_

_please call me or niall as soon as you get this_

Liam didn’t need to open the plethora of texts in his conversation with Niall to know that they would be extremely similar.

“Who’s this?” Liam’s mother was leaning over his shoulder, scrutinizing the last of Zayn’s texts. “Someone obviously needs to get in touch with you very badly. A friend?”

“My—uhm.” Liam bit his tongue.

The fond amusement on his mother’s face was gone. “Liam,” she exhaled. Then patted his hand in a consoling manner. “It’s okay. This summer’s been a bit…off. For all of us.”

All of us? Liam didn’t like that phrasing; it made it sound like…but she had _said_ it was just her and Liam.

“So, whatever happened between you and this boy, let’s just forget it, alright?”

She was offering Liam an out. His mother was willing to forgive Liam’s relationship with Zayn. Liam could contrive no suitable response other than a nod.

His phone buzzed. Well fuck if the universe wasn’t just full of grotesque ironies this week. It was Zayn. Who else?

_liam if youre at your apartment answer the damn door_

Zayn was at his apartment looking for him? Liam checked the time. It was barely one o’clock. Zayn had left work in the middle of his shift? Mr. Malik would _kill_ him.

 _Go back to work_ , is what Liam would have typed, if his mother’s hand hadn’t closed over his own.

“Liam,” she said warningly.

 _Like ripping off the band-aid_ , Liam thought to himself. He nodded miserably and snapped his phone closed. Then put it in his pocket for good measure. Liam’s mother looked pleased.

“It’ll be nice having you back home,” she said, as if trying to twist Liam’s guilty heart a little more. “It’s been lonely without your father around. I’ve gone back to work, though.”

Liam raised his eyebrows.

“Yup,” she continued. “Just a secretarial position, but it’s something. Gotta keep food on the table, you know. It’ll be easier, though. With you helping out.”

What—oh. Yeah. Obviously going home didn’t mean going back to school. Who was going to pay for it? Certainly not his father, and certainly not his mother with her salary. Liam knew, logically, that it didn’t make sense to feel like his mother had sprung this on him. Any rational person would have seen that she couldn’t be the bread-winner for the two of them by herself. _Get your head out of your ass, Liam_.

“R-right,” Liam murmured.

His phone buzzed. Liam looked out the window. He’d only been back in his mother’s company for a couple of hours, but suddenly Liam wanted nothing more than to be alone.

“Liam.”

Liam’s mother put her hand on his cheek to turn make him face her. “Are you okay, hon?”

He nodded. “J-just. Worried ab-about s-sc-school,” he said, since that was true. “When I’ll g-g-get to go b-back.”

“Oh, Li,” his mother crooned, swiping her thumb across his cheekbone. “There’s time for school, don’t worry. Once your father gets…comes home, we’ll figure something out. I’ll make sure we can afford to get you your degree, don’t worry.”

Liam felt like someone had dumped ice water down his neck. “Wh-what?” he choked.

Liam’s mother looked confused about what the problem was.

“D-dad,” Liam clarified, standing up from his seat and looking down at her, surrounded by his two duffle bags—the one Liam had originally brought from home, and one he’d borrowed (read: stolen) from Niall. Liam adjusted the strap of his backpack on his shoulder. “Y-you’re not…you’re not l-l-leaving him?”

The crease between his mother’s brows deepened. “I—of course not.”

“B-but you s-said…”

 _It’s just you and me, Liam. We belong together; we’re family_.

“He _h-hates_ me.” Liam stared determinedly at his mother, because apparently she _still didn’t get it_.

“He doesn’t _hate_ you, Liam. Please stop being so dramatic.” Liam’s mother was eying the other passengers on the bus nervously. A couple of them were giving Liam looks. He didn’t care.

Nothing had changed. Not even…not even his father being sent to _prison_ had gotten it through her skull that…that if Liam returned, everything would go back to the way it was. His mother would never protect him. Even now, she hadn’t really chosen his side. She had chosen Liam in the interim. Liam was her second choice, since his father was…

Oh god.

Liam thought he was going to be sick. He really, really thought he was going to vomit all over these ugly, felt-covered bus seats. Distantly, he could feel his phone vibrating against his thigh, signaling an incoming call.

“No,” Liam muttered, mostly to himself. “No, no, no, no…” What was he _doing_ here?  _  
_

Was he really on a bus right now, with his mother, heading _home_? Was he _insane_? 

“Liam, sit _down_ ,” his mother demanded, patting the spot beside her commandingly. “Please.”

“No.” Still shaking his head, Liam almost lost his footing when the bus lurched to a stop. Without really consciously deciding to do so, Liam found his feet carrying him to the front of the bus.

“Liam! _Liam_!”

Liam was out on the sidewalk when his mother grabbed his shoulder and spun him around.

“Liam, _what_ are you doing?”

She had a bag on each arm, looking rather harried.

“I can’t,” Liam said, absolutely horrified to feel a lump rising in his throat. “I c-can’t.”

“You can’t _what_?” his mother said exasperatedly.

“Y-you—you never s-s-stopped him!” Liam found himself bursting out instead. He could feel his bottom lip wobbling dangerously. “Ev-ever. All th-the times h-he… H-how c- _could_ you…?”

“Liam, please, let’s have this conversation when we get home,” his mother said in a barely civilized tone. “In _private_.”

Liam felt himself jostled by a passerby and couldn’t find it in himself to care.

That _would_ be what his mother wanted. To keep this all wrapped up, pretend nothing was wrong. That’s what she’d been doing for years. This whole…the whole travesty of Liam’s childhood was a result of his mother’s own ego as much as her blind, delusional love for his father.

Fuck this. Liam couldn’t—he couldn’t.

“I’m n-not going.”

Liam’s mother looked like he’d struck her across the face. “Excuse me?”

Liam just shook his head. He made to reach for his bags but his mother jerked away. “Liam. I am your mother and you are coming home with me,” she asserted. “I spent damn near twenty hours getting here, and there’s no way in _hell_ I’m—Liam!”

Liam realized, as he was running away, that this was the first time she’d ever yelled at him.

Somehow, it seemed long overdue.

 _Now_ who was attracting attention?

Still Liam, given that he had tears and snot running down his face and an overstuffed backpack bouncing behind him as he sprinted block after block down the sidewalk with no particular direction in mind. He crossed intersections practically blinded by tears, nearly crashing into two cars and countless pedestrians.

When Liam was entirely out of breath, he slowed to a sluggish walk and glanced over his shoulder. Not that he’d really expected his mother to follow the zigzag path he’d taken.

Now that the adrenalin had left his system, the reality of the situation had time to resettle in Liam’s mind.

Holy shit.

Holy motherfucking shit.

Liam choked on his breath and shoved a fist to stifle the sobs threatening to escape. His knuckle was…yeah, it was definitely bleeding from the pressure of his teeth.

Unable to think what he should do next, Liam settled against the brick wall of a building and sank to the ground, not even removing his backpack so that he could lean back properly. And then, Liam did what he always did in these situations when he was too overwhelmed to figure out his next move.

Flipping open his phone, Liam was informed that there were seven new voicemails and eleven messages from Zayn and Niall and…ah. Yup. Someone had told Harry and Louis about his mother’s little surprise visit too, apparently.

Liam emitted an audible moan and sniffled. Without bothering to read whatever furious messages previously sent by Zayn, Liam typed out (after many failed attempts, courtesy of his trembling fingers) _To Zayn: can you plesse come pick m up?_

Well, he’d kind of given up trying to make it perfect. Zayn would knew what he meant.

Sure enough, not five seconds later: _From Zayn:_ _where_

Liam lifted his head to look at the nearest street corner for signs.

_To Zayn: corner of madison nd rowley_

_From Zayn: on the way_

Liam flipped his phone shut, put it on silent (lest his mother attempt to contact him), and rested his forehead on his knees, willing himself not to start crying again.

***

The whole ‘not crying’ thing was working out…decently well, by Liam's estimation, until he heard someone calling his name. Liam lifted his head to see Zayn running across the middle of the road, cars honking at him (and Zayn politely flipping them off). Liam stood up with shaking knees, letting his backpack slide off his shoulders as Zayn approached.

“Liam,” Zayn breathed, slightly winded and looking both infinitely relieved and increasingly worried for having laid eyes upon Liam.

Utterly lost for words, Liam sniffed wetly.

“Oh, babe,” Zayn lamented, pulling Liam into his arms.

Liam couldn’t even move his own arms to hug back, he just instantly came undone. He felt like he was shaking to pieces as deep, rattling sobs wracked through his chest. The collar of Zayn’s shirt was soaked with tears. Liam felt like his whole body was on vibrate, and eventually Zayn had to gently lower them onto the sidewalk because he couldn’t support almost all of Liam’s weight sagging against him. He carefully dragged Liam into his lap, keeping one arm wrapped around his ribcage while the other came to cradle the back of his head.

Zayn was a total trooper throughout the whole ordeal, gently hushing Liam and rubbing his back as Liam gradually wore himself out, asking none of the questions that Liam was sure he was dying to ask. At long last, heaving breaths subsided into hiccups, and Liam’s eyes felt itchy with dried tears. He reached up with one hand to rub at them irritatedly. God, they were just sitting right in the middle of the sidewalk, weren’t they? He could hear people walking past them, some talking in hushed voices. Whatever. They could all stare. Liam was too exhausted to mind.

At long last, he blinked up at Zayn, who was looking back at Liam with the corners of his mouth turned down in worry. Liam tried for a watery smile, but Zayn’s expression didn’t much change.

“Th-thanks for c-c-coming,” Liam whispered hoarsely, looking determinedly at Zayn’s chin. The _even we're in a kind-of-fight_ was left unspoken but recognized by both parties.

Zayn put his hand on Liam’s cheek, tactfully ignoring Liam’s flinch. “Liam, I’m not—" He quickly decided to change tactics, and finished with, “Of course I came.”

Liam blinked again, his lips forming a silent ‘o’. He leaned back to rest his head on Zayn’s shoulder again and felt Zayn drop a kiss onto the top of his head.

“Where is she?” Zayn asked, so quietly Liam almost didn’t hear him.

Liam shrugged as much as he could with one shoulder pressed against Zayn’s chest.

Zayn just hummed, like this didn’t surprise him. “Let’s not head back to Niall’s, then. Just in case.”

Liam shivered and tried to shrink in on himself. Zayn rubbed a hand up and down his arm soothingly. “’s okay,” he murmured into Liam’s hair. “I’ve got you. We’ll get this all figured out, okay?”

Liam felt himself start to relax again, felt his heartbeat slow for the first time since he woke up today, lulled into the sense of total security he’d only really become familiar with this summer. Zayn continued to murmur a variation of _It's okay, you're okay_ and _You're not alone_ in Liam's ear while strangers passed over their heads and cars whizzed by on the street.

Liam allowed his eyes to droop shut again and balled one fist in the fabric of Zayn’s uniform shirt and just basked in the feeling of being held, on this dirty sidewalk, god knows where in town, with someone who cared.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again! Not much to say here, other than just so many apologies for this chapter. All the sad!Liam. I'm so sorry. 
> 
> Also, I'm not sure how long the epilogue will end up being, but if you see the chapter number move up to 12, it's because I've decided to make it separate from the last actual chapter. So I'm not just stringing you along, adding more chapters willy-nilly :)


	11. Part 11

They’d only been sitting on the sidewalk for a few minutes when Zayn’s phone started to vibrate with an incoming call. Zayn awkwardly adjusted Liam on his lap and pulled it out of his pocket.

“Lou and Harry,” Zayn informed Liam after glancing at the caller ID. He swiped his finger across the screen. “Hello? Yeah, I’ve got Liam with me. He’s fine. Well, not fine.” Zayn looked down to scrutinize Liam’s probably tear-splotched face. “But intact.”

Liam pushed his nose into Zayn’s shoulder and Zayn brought his free hand up to comb through Liam’s hair.

“Right now? We’re...I don’t know. Close-ish to downtown. I’m taking him back to mine?”

Liam, understanding that the question was meant for him without looking up, nodded against Zayn.

“Yeah, back to mine, then. Okay. I will. Hey, will you call Niall for us and just let him know everything’s okay? I know. I’ll call him soon as we’re in the car. Just shoot him a text or something, yeah? All right. See you in a bit, then.”

Zayn ended the call. “Louis and Harry send their love. If it’s cool, they’re probably going to drop by after their shift ends.”

Liam nodded his assent.

“Good.” A pause. “So, how do you feel about getting up off the concrete and heading for my car?”

Liam mentally debated. On the one hand, he’d sort of been dozing off into a sleepy state of comfort for the last couple of minutes, and he was loath to get up and break the serenity. On the other hand, Zayn’s legs were probably falling asleep, and now that he was no longer in a state of complete panic, it occurred to Liam that he really needed to go to the bathroom.

Liam reluctantly peeled himself away from Zayn and stood up.

“Th-thanks,” he mumbled as Zayn slung Liam’s backpack over one shoulder.

“‘s no problem,” Zayn assured, holding out his hand to Liam.

Liam looked back at it hesitantly. Despite the very close embrace they’d just shared, Liam wasn’t sure whether this meant things were back to normal yet, or Zayn was just throwing Liam a lifeline in his moment of need. “Is—are w-we—”

Zayn enclosed Liam’s hand in his own and drew him closer to kiss his temple. “Don’t worry,” he soothed. “We’ll talk about it later, okay?”

Liam nodded, not entirely at ease, but not willing to relinquish his hold on Zayn’s hand either.

Zayn led the way over to his car, which was rather dreadfully parallel parked outside a convenience store a couple blocks away.

“Wow, that’s just terrible,” Zayn remarked of his parking job as they approached. Liam had to agree; it was a wonder Zayn’s bumper hadn’t been taken off by passing traffic. “I might have been in a bit of a hurry to find you.”

Liam’s heart did a cartwheel.

As soon as he slid into the driver’s seat, Zayn phoned Niall.

“Hi—” was all Zayn got out before Liam heard Niall speaking both very loudly and very quickly on the other end. Zayn moved the phone a few inches away from his ear. “Ni—Niall. Calm down, dude. I’m putting him on. Christ.” Zayn held out the phone to Liam.

Liam gulped. He was about to get an earful. Liam took the phone from Zayn and held it up to his ear cautiously. “H-Hi, Niall.”

“Liam Payne, do you have any idea what the hell you put me through today? _Do you_?” Liam cringed away from the phone, but Niall was already plowing on, “Jesus Christ, Liam. One call! One call would’ve done. I’ve been driving myself mad over here all day. I was ready to jump back on a bus when Zayn texted to say he was picking you up. Fuck, Liam—”

Liam was curled into a quivering ball in the passenger seat when Zayn pried the phone from his hand. “Niall,” Zayn said sharply into the phone. “You’re upsetting Liam. You can call back when you’ve calmed down a bit.” And then promptly hung up on Niall.

Liam could have laughed, if he wasn’t already on the brink of tears again. Zayn laid a hand on his shoulder.

“He was just worried,” Zayn said softly. “He’s not angry with you, even if he’s got a really shitty way of showing it just at the moment.” Zayn gave Liam a half-hearted grin. “Such a mother hen, that one.” Liam flinched at the word mother, and Zayn grimaced apologetically.

“Here,” Zayn said, hooking up his iPod to the auxiliary cord and handing it to Liam. “You pick.”

Liam gave Zayn a grateful smile and started to scroll through the artists while Zayn maneuvered his way out of the parking spot. Soon, The Black Keys was blaring from the speakers while Zayn belted out the lyrics, taking hold of Liam’s hand over the gearshift. Liam wiped his still-runny nose against his sleeve and couldn’t quite bring himself to hum, but.

It felt a bit like coming home.

***

“So, Liam,” Zayn said as they stepped into his room. “Is this...where’s the rest of your stuff, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“Um.” Liam scratched his arm awkwardly. “With m-my mom?”

Zayn blinked.

Liam, blushing furiously, confessed to how he’d quite literally run away from his mother. A decision that, in retrospect, seemed a little rash. Although if Liam had it to do all over again, he wasn’t sure he’d spend one more second in his mother’s presence, even if it was to gather up the rest of his belongings. It’s not like there had been much to begin with.

“You can borrow some of my clothes, if you want,” Zayn offered, dropping Liam’s backpack next to the bed.

Liam nodded, kicking off his shoes. He was more than ready to purge himself of every memory from today, including these disgusting, slept-in, sweaty clothes. Liam brushed the remaining dirt off the seat of his pants and accepted the folded clothes Zayn offered him. Overcome with a wave of déjà vu, Liam stepped into the bathroom. After finally taking the opportunity to relieve himself, he wadded up his soiled clothes and slipped on Zayn’s t-shirt. He drew the collar up over his nose and inhaled; it smelled like Zayn’s room. Like safety. Liam pulled on Zayn’s sweats and exited the bathroom.

Zayn was reclined against the headboard of his bed, flipping through a comic, in what would _seem_ like a relaxed position--if not for Zayn’s fingers tapping agitatedly against the pages and his set jaw. He looked up when Liam emerged and gave him a tight smile. Liam, didn’t allow himself the chance to stop and over-think the complicated situation between himself and Zayn. He promptly went over to curl back up against Zayn’s chest. Zayn didn’t seem to mind. He put the comic on his bedside table and pulled the duvet up over Liam’s toes before wrapping his arms securely around Liam’s waist.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Zayn offered quietly, obviously trying to respect Liam’s feelings and not sound too much like _he_ wanted to talk about it, but not quite pulling it off.

Liam figured he might as well. Not talking about it hadn’t done him much good, had it? But where to even begin?

“I’m g-guessing N-Niall told you ab-bout my parents,” Liam mumbled, picking at his fingers, because he wasn’t sure how else to start.

Zayn’s arms tightened around him. “He told me enough. Called mid-morning and said his parents told him your mom was coming to visit, really panicked, like. At first I didn’t understand, ‘cause like…well, you’d said she didn’t have your back when your dad kicked you out, but then I thought maybe…” Zayn shrugged.

“Yeah, m-me too,” Liam whispered miserably. “But she j-just came bec-c-cause my dad is, uh. H-he’s in p-prison, ap-apparently.”

“ _What_?” Zayn hissed.

“Mmm-hmm. As-s-ssaulted a coworker? I th-think.”

“Ah,” Zayn said grimly. “Niall told me about. About what your dad, um.” Zayn cleared his throat and Liam closed his eyes against the word he knew was coming. “That he was abusive.”

Liam whimpered. It wasn’t that he didn’t know (now) that what had gone on in his childhood home was abuse. But having the label slapped on there seemed to make the whole thing so much more…real. So much worse.

“Liam.” Zayn’s voice was choked.

Liam looked up at Zayn with surprise. Much to Liam’s horror, Zayn looked nothing short of devastated. Liam opened his mouth but could find no suitable response. Zayn brought his hand up to rest at the curve between Liam’s neck and shoulder. “I just. I don’t even know what to say. The idea that someone could _fucking lay their hands on you like_ —” He broke off, and took a deep, calming breath through his nose. “I’m just so sorry, Liam. So sorry.”

Liam gave a weak chuckle. “Ap-p-polog-gizing for s-something that’s n-not your fault,” he evaded.

Zayn’s mouth spread into a humorless smile. “Not apologizing,” he countered softly, rubbing his thumb rhythmically across Liam’s neck. “Just sympathetic.

“Although,” Zayn added, stony-faced once more, “I _am_ apologizing for _ever_ blowing up at you. _No_ ,” he interrupted when Liam opened his mouth to reassure Zayn that he didn’t need to keep apologizing for that. “Jesus, Liam.” Zayn looked at him with a combination of wonderment and incredulity. “How did you ever even _tolerate_ me, always flying off the handle like that? Beating the shit out of people at the drop of a hat. You were so scared of me.” The last bit came out as hardly more than a whisper (a regret Zayn had expressed before, but now seemed to carry infinitely more weight).

“I w-was,” Liam admitted, “but Z-Zayn.” Liam shook his head, not knowing how to even articulate this. “My d-dad always made m-me feel like sh-shit. Always. I w-was never… _he_ n-never…” He took a deep breath, trying to concentrate on the weight of Zayn’s hand on his shoulder and the pad of Zayn’s thumb on his pulse point. “I c-can’t remem-ember the last n-nice thing he s-said about me. Or _to_ me. H-he int-t- _tentionally_ hurt m-me. And m-my mom always s-sided him, in the end.

“Niall l-looks out for m-me. And I l-love him, but.

“That night, w-when I called you in N-North Carol-l-lina, and you just d-dropped everything to t-talk to me. T-told me the ki-indest things. I couldn’t rememb-ber the last time anyone…” Liam sniffed frustratedly and wiped furiously at his eyes. “And y-you never _tried_ to hu-urt me. You’ve always p-protected me. B-been angry on m-m-my behalf, but n-never w- _wanted_ to hurt me, or m-make me afraid, l-like...like he…”

Zayn leaned forward and pressed a kiss to Liam’s forehead. “How you turned out the way you are is totally beyond me,” he told Liam. “You’re the kindest, gentlest person I’ve ever met. If I was—if that was me, I mean. You see how bitter I am towards my own dad, let alone—”

Liam shook his head to silence his boyfriend, because it was no use letting Zayn make himself feel guilty over a hypothetical situation. “It’s n-not like it did-idn’t m-mess me up.” Zayn made to protest but Liam hurtled onward, “L-like being af-f-fraid of people. The anxiety. Always f-feeling like…” Liam brought a hand up to clutch at his chest, as if the next bit might physically wrench something from his heart, “I’ll alw-ways f-fuck things up, s-somehow.”

Zayn’s lips formed a thin, severe line and he was silent for a long, painful moment. “Do you think maybe,” Zayn began tentatively, watching Liam carefully, gauging his reaction, “that’s something you want to talk to a professional about?”

Liam’s jaw slackened. “What?”

“I don’t want to pressure you into anything,” Zayn hastened to add. “I’m always here, you know that. To listen, help, however I can. But Liam, your family situation is really…”

 _Fucked up?_ Liam mentally supplied.

“Complicated.”

Well, that was nothing if not diplomatic.

“Obviously the other guys and I are going to be there for you no matter what,” Zayn continued. “Niall’s not going to let you out of his sight for the next year, probably.” Liam cracked a weary smile. “But I know _I_ found talking to someone helpful, with the anger stuff. And if you maybe ever feel like you need some outside help, too, then you need to tell us, okay?”

This was all a bit much to process. Therapy? It was a laugh if Zayn thought Liam could pay for something like that. Liam had exactly one backpack full of stuff to his name.

“Liam.”

Zayn’s sharp effort to regain his attention made Liam realize how close he was to hyperventilation. He gripped at Zayn’s shirt while Zayn made soft hushing sounds and steadied Liam by his shoulders. When Liam felt he had his breathing under control once more, he slumped back against Zayn’s chest.

“I didn’t mean to upset you,” Zayn apologized, sounding dejected.

Liam shook his head. “N-not your f-fault,” he said. “It’s a l-lot, is all. I’m t-tired.”

Zayn _hmm_ -ed sympathetically. “You wanna go to sleep?” he suggested, even though they both knew this was not the kind of tired Liam was referring to.

Liam decided he could probably do with a nap anyway. He nodded and clumsily rolled out of Zayn’s arms to lie down beside him. Zayn pulled the blankets over top Liam, who snuggled into the pillow and inhaled that now-familiar Zayn smell.

Zayn reached over to run a hand over Liam’s hair. “I’ll text Lou and Harry, so they know not to enter like a herd of elephants when they arrive,” Zayn joked.

Liam smiled without opening his eyes.

“Hey, Liam.”

Liam reluctantly peeled back his eyelids to glance drowsily up at Zayn.

“Whatever you decide you want to do, about talking to someone about all this, or where you’re going to live, or about school or _anything_ , we’ll figure out a way to make it work, okay? You don’t have to worry about figuring this out on your own. We’re here for you.”

Liam didn’t bother to point out how ludicrously optimistic that was, or express his own lingering doubts. For now, it was enough to know that Zayn (and by extension, Louis, Harry, and Niall) felt that way about him. That they honestly would do anything in their (admittedly limited) power to make sure he was safe and happy.

Liam wasted no time falling asleep to the click-click sound of Zayn typing out his text messages to the others.

***

Liam awoke sometime later to the sound of soft voices. At first, he wasn’t sure whether or not he was fully awake, or if they were the vestiges of some dream he’d been having. But when Liam rolled over to press his face into someone’s side (probably Zayn’s, he realized sleepily), the voices stopped. Liam was teetering on the brink of drifting off again, and so did not open his eyes. A hand resumed its petting of Liam’s hair.

“So where is she now?” Liam heard Harry’s voice ask, somewhere in the vicinity of his feet. Liam felt a hand rest on his ankle gently and the cloud of drowsiness started to clear from his mind.

“Dunno,” Zayn said, right above Liam’s head. “Took his phone, and there’s a couple missed calls but it was on silent, so I don’t think he knows about them. I guess he was going back with her, and then decided not to? I found him sitting on the sidewalk like, twenty minutes away from the park.”

Someone let out a low whistle.

“Shit.” That was Louis.

“It was...bad,” Zayn disclosed in hardly more than a whisper.

“I wonder why he…” Harry did not finish the thought, but simply trailed off into contemplative silence.

Liam, who couldn’t help but feel like he was eavesdropping, decided it was probably time to casually announce his consciousness. He did so by nuzzling a bit deeper into Zayn’s side and then turning to blink up at him.

“Hey there.” Zayn granted Liam a tired smile. “Feeling better?”

Liam nodded against Zayn’s waist, and then, with a great effort, shoved himself up into a half-sitting-half-lying position beside him. Harry was stretched across the foot of the bed, head propped up on one hand, and Louis was lounging on the couch.

“Hey,” Harry greeted in a low, quiet voice. Liam felt Zayn take his hand under the covers, and gave it a squeeze.

“Hi,” Liam replied, equally quiet. Even Lou looked subdued, watching them from the couch, turning his phone over in his hands agitatedly. Liam kind of wished they would all stop staring at him like that.

“S-sorry for not showing up t-to work today,” Liam said to break the silence.

Louis snorted. “Yeah, really inconvenienced us, that. ‘s actually why we’ve gathered you here, to tell you off.”

Liam frowned.

“Louis gets a bit sarcastic when he’s worried,” Harry said needlessly, eying his boyfriend sharply. “We’re glad you’re okay. And we told Simon you were sick today, so don’t even worry about it.”

“Thanks,” said Liam as he picked at the duvet with his fingers. “Sorry t-to worry you.”

Harry just rubbed his foot consolingly. “Don’t sweat it. You’re here now, that’s all that matters.”

“Your mom, did she leave town?” Louis asked in that same icy tone, which would have had Liam scrambling to get under the covers if he didn’t know it was directed at his mother, not him.

Liam shrugged, pressing closer to Zayn all the same. “Not sure. She m-might…” Liam looked uncertainly at Zayn. “What if sh-she comes back? T-to try and t-t-talk me ‘round?”

Zayn adjusted to wrap an arm around Liam’s shoulders protectively. “You can stay here until Niall gets back.”

Liam smiled gratefully. Then realized, “Oh, Niall!”

“He’s been calling for you,” Zayn said. “Even though I _told_ him you were asleep.”

“I sh-should call him,” Liam said. It did not escape Liam’s notice that the phone Zayn handed him was _Zayn’s_ , rather than Liam’s. Liam decided not to mention he’d overheard about the messages Zayn was hiding (and no doubt planning to delete). Whatever, Liam had no desire to listen to them anyway. Instead, Liam took the phone and crawled out of the bed to put on his shoes. As soon as he’d stepped outside and descended the staircase into the garage, Liam dialed Niall’s number.

“Zayn. What’s up? Is Liam okay?”

“Not Zayn.”

“Liam.” Niall breathed his name like a sigh of relief and Liam felt a pang of guilt jab at his heart.

“I’m sorry,” Liam said desperately. “I’m so, s-so sorry, N-Niall. I don’t kn-now what—”

“Hey, calm down. It’s fine,” Niall placated. “Liam, it’s fine. I’m not mad. I’m sorry for upsetting you earlier. I was just really, really worried. I’m glad you’re safe, okay?”

Liam nodded even though Niall couldn’t see him (it was mostly to reassure himself anyway). “Okay.”

“Okay,” Niall echoed. Then huffed out a sigh. “I’m glad you didn’t go with her.”

“Me too,” Liam admitted. He quite actually couldn’t believe that he’d been so foolish.

“I can’t believe she had the nerve to show up at our place,” Niall said venomously. “After nearly three months. Jesus Christ.”

“Sh-she came bec-c-cause my dad is, um. In p-p-prison.”

“Holy _fuck_.”

“Yeah.”

“So is she…”

“Staying wi-ith him,” Liam confirmed. “Yeah. ‘s w-why I decided not t-to go back.” Liam barked out a hysterical laugh. “C-can’t believe I alm-most…I’m so s-stupid.”

“No. I mean, it’s your mom,” Niall said, trying to sound reasonable despite his blatant hatred of Liam’s mother (and, whereas Liam would’ve found this offensive in May, he was now more than sympathetic to Niall’s opinion). “I think I understand why you might have felt like you needed to go with her. I’m not even gonna try to pretend like I know what that’s like, to have parents that are so…” Niall heaved another sigh. “I’m sure it was complicated.”

There was that word again. _Complicated_. Liam paused for a moment, debating whether or not to say what was on his mind. “Zayn s-said maybe I should, um, t-talk to s-someone? About everyth-th-thing. Like. A therapist.”

Liam chewed his lip while Niall was silent on the other end of the line. “Is that…is that something you want?” Niall was cautious.

“I don’t know,” Liam confessed. “N-Niall, I feel s-so…”

So _what_?

Lost. Hurt. Insecure, always. Afraid for his future, haunted by his past.

The other boys were…grounding. They were Liam’s family. But the more Liam reflected on the past twenty-four hours—the culmination of nearly twenty years of emotional (and sometimes physical) disregard by the two people who should have loved him most in the world—the more Liam was thinking...

“I n-need some help,” Liam whispered into the phone.

Niall’s answer was immediate and determined. “Whatever you need, Liam.”

“Okay,” Liam agreed, and almost believed it—that come hell or high water (or, as the case may be, excessively expensive therapy sessions), Niall would be able to do whatever it took to make sure Liam was okay. There was a burning lump in his throat, but it felt more like the imminence of happy tears than sad ones.

“We can talk more about this when I get back, yeah? I was planning on coming home Sunday, but I can come back sooner if you need me.”

“No, n-no,” Liam assured. “I’m s-staying at Zayn’s.”

“Oh. Good. That’s good.” Niall was audibly relieved.

“Yeah.”

“Well, then.” Niall took a deep breath and adopted a more playful tone. “Don’t cause too much trouble for Zayn, you hear? I know what a rambunctious guest you can be.”

Liam rolled his eyes. If Niall was making jokes, then he must truly feel reassured. “I’ll try,” Liam promised sarcastically.

“You do that,” Niall commanded faux-seriously. Then added, more genuinely, “Take care of yourself, Liam. I’ll see you in a few days. Call if you need anything.”

“Will do,” Liam agreed. “Th-thanks.”

“No problem. Love you, man.”

Yeah, there were those happy tears again, nearly spilling over now. “Bye, Niall.”

***

The Maliks, as it turned out, were less keen on having their son’s boyfriend stay over for multiple nights in his room (Liam had to admit, from an outsider’s perspective, it did seem kind of shady, what with Zayn’s room separate from the rest of the house). Liam could respect their wishes, despite the fact that, as Zayn pointed out, he was away at school for nine months of the year, when his parents had no idea what strange boys were sleeping in his room (Liam tried hard not to think too much about that). And of course, there was also the small matter of Liam and Zayn’s sexual relationship being, for all intents and purposes, nonexistent.

The comforting embraces, kisses, and handholding, well. It was exactly that: comfort. Zayn had still expressed no burning desire to get intimate with Liam, and even though it consistently reminded Liam of what had gotten them to this point in the first place (cue the renewed waves of guilt), he couldn’t say that he minded. Liam wasn’t sure how physical intimacy would affect his fragile emotional state, anyway. It might just totally fry his brain, he mused.

Since camping out at Zayn’s was not an option, it seemed that Louis, Harry, and Zayn had all taken up self-appointed positions on Liam Watch until Niall returned. This involved staying with Liam at Niall’s apartment all hours that they were not working (and totally disregarding Liam’s protests that it wasn’t necessary). The constant company was not as tiresome as Liam initially feared it would be. Zayn was the one who followed him home from work and spent afternoons at the apartment, chatting with Liam or watching TV or reading in silence. Liam was relieved that Zayn seemed to require no entertainment, as Liam really couldn’t bring himself to care about the conventions of being a good host on top of everything else. At night, either Harry or Louis or both would arrive to spend the night.

Liam did a lot of stress baking over the next few days. He didn’t recognize that’s what it was until Zayn pointed out the trend on Friday, as Liam removed an eighth batch of blueberry muffins from the oven.

“It m-makes me feel bet-t-tter,” Liam confessed, rubbing his oven mitts together self-consciously.

“I’m not complaining,” Zayn assured him, unwrapping a muffin. “Those snickerdoodles you made yesterday were to _die_ for.”

Liam glowed.

“But this does seem a bit excessive today,” Zayn continued as Liam searched for a tupperware container to store the muffins, only to discover he’d used them all up already. “Anything you want to tell me?”

Liam tugged at his shirtsleeves and directed his response at the counter. “Phone s-service cut off t-today.”

Zayn stopped munching on his muffin and swallowed thickly. “Oh.”

Liam nodded, trying not to feel too upset about something that he’d known was inevitable. The finality of it was unexpectedly, sharply painful.

“Well, you can use my phone for now,” Zayn said with an air of confidence that did not match the worried tightness around his eyes.

“Thanks,” Liam said with a forced smile.

“You can thank me by getting me another muffin,” Zayn said with a grin. Liam passed over another muffin without complaint. “I love your cooking.”

 _I love your cooking_.

It was the type of thing Zayn had been saying a lot over the past couple of days, and it had not evaded Liam’s notice.

The first time it happened, Liam was giggling at an episode of _30 Rock_ (the first uninhibited laugh Liam remembered emitting since the whole debacle with his mother). Liam had his hand clapped over his mouth, tears of mirth in his eyes when he noticed Zayn watching him.

“What?” Liam asked, unable to wipe the dopey grin off his face as he turned to look curiously at Zayn, who was also wearing a smile. Though his seemed less amused, and more pleased.

“I love your laugh,” Zayn told Liam.

That _did_ wipe the smile off Liam’s face, only to replace it with an expression of surprise.

“Oh,” had been Liam’s only reply.

Luckily, Liam was spared the task of coming up with something else to say because Zayn leaned over to kiss him, really _kiss_ him since...you know, that whole _other_ debacle, and Liam felt himself melt inside.

Since then, Zayn had been peppering these comments into their conversations. And given that they spent nearly eight hours together everyday, Zayn found many opportunities.

“I love it when you hum,” Zayn had paused in singing along to “Whole Lotta Love” to inform Liam.

Liam paused in the act of cleaning off his spatula. “Thanks.”

“I bet you have a great singing voice,” Zayn mused.

Liam shrugged. “Too m-many words, th-that way,” he explained.

Zayn frowned, but didn’t press the subject. Just went back to singing. Liam was grateful.

(They’d been listening to a lot of music, which was par for the course when hanging out with Zayn, with the notable exception of Pink Floyd. When flipping through the library on his laptop for musical selections, Zayn had almost immediately gone for _Dark Side of the Moon_ , one of Liam’s known favorites, but they were only about two chords in before Liam begged him to turn it off.

“My m-mother really likes—l-liked that one,” was all Liam needed to say for it to be determined that there would be no Pink Floyd for a while.)

Sometimes Zayn announced the little things he loved about Liam unprompted. “I love that you always put DVDs back in their cases,” was a more trivial one, followed by the explanation, “Have you ever watched a movie over at Louis’s? Can’t get halfway through without skipping or getting stuck.”

“I love your smile,” was a simpler one.

“I love it when you wear my clothes,” was a more confusing one, because that was _all_ Liam had been wearing since he’d left his own clothes somewhere across town (it felt rude to go rifling through Niall’s stuff while he was away) and yet Liam was still strangely flattered and delighted that Zayn had said it. Weird.

Liam didn’t need to ask why Zayn had taken it upon himself to provide Liam with another List (if this time a sneakier, unofficial, verbal one). Over the past few days, Liam had been filling Zayn in on...everything. Not just the Sparknotes version he’d given Niall, either. He told Zayn about his family’s financial struggles, the crushing, unrelenting pressure to be more masculine, the resultant household homophobia, the perpetual reminders of how _stupid_ he sounded whenever he opened his mouth, the weeks that turned into months of near total silence, the bullying, and the brief but life-changing salvation that Niall brought.

He didn’t divulge everything all at once, but sprinkled painful tidbits into his conversations with Zayn, each one a small plea for understanding and acceptance.

Zayn offered both. He held Liam’s hand through recounting his feelings for Andy. He dropped kisses into Liam’s hair when Liam recalled his father’s treatment of the two men in the restaurant on his middle school graduation day. When Liam eventually mustered up the courage to tell Zayn about the day he’d been banished from his household, Zayn held Liam in his lap and didn’t complain about the tears dampening his shirt. Zayn was all soft words and soft touches and if, after Liam had been sufficiently consoled, Zayn disappeared for a bit and returned smelling _strongly_ of cigarette smoke, then Liam didn’t mention it.

“I’m just totally in awe of you,” Zayn said one afternoon, startling Liam out of his book. They’d been sitting in silence for some time, and apparently Zayn had been deep in thought about Liam. “After all that, with your parents being...how they are, and treating you...and fuck, even just those bastards at school, how are you not the most cynical motherfucker on the face of the Earth?” Zayn looked at him curiously, like Liam was really meant to answer that question.

Liam had no answer. In truth, he was in awe of Zayn for sticking it out this long, despite all Liam’s hang-ups and issues. It occurred to Liam that, in light of all Zayn’s efforts to do so for _him_ , he should probably tell Zayn how much he mattered to Liam.

***

Liam had sort of given up trying to contrive his own romantic gestures for the time being. He’d clearly not reached that level of romantic maturity yet, which was fine. Liam was really fine with it. So he was going to shamelessly steal Zayn’s idea, and not feel bad about it.

Liam’s List was going to have to be written out, because he was nowhere near as eloquent as Zayn. He was surprised how difficult it was to find a spare moment away from Zayn, who was a near constant presence this week, to actually write the damn thing. In the end, Liam had to wait until Harry and Louis had arrived for the night and were caught up watching _Reservoir Dogs_.

Liam tapped his pencil nervously against the piece of paper before him. How could he even compile everything Zayn meant to him into a simple list?

_Okay I’ve been sitting here staring at this stupid piece of loose leaf for about fifteen minutes now, wondering how to start this off, so what I’m going to do is just start writing and see where it goes, if that’s okay._

Liam took a deep breath and plunged into the word vomit.

_So, Reasons I Like Zayn Malik. I’m going to start off with physical things because that’s the most obvious. I’m not sure whether you know this, but you’re actually like, the best-looking person I’ve ever met. No joke. That day I was staring at you being a total creep by the vending shack? Well, I was totally entranced by your singing, but it also might have had something to do with your back. And your arms. And your bone structure. And (after falling on my ass and getting to see you up close) your eyes._

Liam felt his ears heating up just writing this, but forced himself to go on.

_Sometimes I really just can’t even believe that someone like you could want to be with me. And I know as you read this you’re probably rolling your eyes and wishing you could jump in to ease my mind (another one of those things I like about you), but you’re seriously the most beautiful human being I’ve ever met, so yeah._

Liam cast a paranoid look over at Harry and Lou snuggled on the couch, embarrassed by his own silent thought process.

_I like that you share things with me--the things you care about. Your comic books, and especially your music. It’s difficult now to imagine how I lived nineteen years without something so amazing. Thank you for giving me that._

_I also like that you’re patient with me. When I’m trying to say something and I can’t get it out right away, you never interrupt. You hold my hand when I get nervous about stuff that wouldn’t faze a normal person. You’ve always tried your best to respect my boundaries, even when I’ve not been totally honest with you (sorry again about that). You never push me, and I don’t think I’ll ever quite get used to how wonderful that is. I’ve told you some just...really fucking awful things about my family and growing up, and you haven’t left, and I owe you so much for that._

_I know that you worry a lot about your temper, and that it’s something that might hurt me. But just the fact that you recognize it, and it’s something you do worry about, is something I admire and appreciate—and is the reason why I know everything will always be okay between us._

_Zayn, you are one of the kindest people I’ve ever had the good fortune to meet, and getting to know you has made this summer one of the best few months of my life. I owe you so much more than this list._

“Liam, while you’re over there, would you mind grabbing me a glass of water?” Harry whispered. Liam glanced up to see that Louis had fallen asleep on Harry’s arm.

Liam folded up his piece of paper, figuring he was about finished anyway, and slipped it in the pocket of his (Zayn’s) shorts. After filling up a glass of water for Harry, he returned to the couch and curled up on Harry’s other side.

“Thanks,” Harry said, and took a big gulp of water. He set the glass down on the coffee table and draped his other arm around Liam. “Doing alright?” (Something Harry asked half a dozen times daily, not that Liam minded.)

“Yep.”

And it was true, Liam thought as he closed his eyes. Liam really was alright.

***

When Niall arrived home the next day, he wasn’t alone.

Liam hadn’t seen Mr. Horan since his junior year of high school, but he looked more or less the same. Perhaps a bit more tired, though Liam thought that could probably be attributed to having a newborn at home for the first week. Nonetheless, just after Niall released him from a tight embrace, Mr. Horan leaned forward to hug Liam as well. “Good to see you, Liam.”

“Y-you too. How’s G-Greg?” Liam asked while Niall went into the kitchen to grab lunch, waving at Zayn, who was, as usual, sitting on the couch, waiting for the tea to boil. Liam wasn’t exactly sure what else _to_ say; honestly, he was at a loss as to why Mr. Horan was here, but it seemed a bit rude to demand why a man was in his own son’s apartment.

“Absolutely fine. Perfectly healthy, though he still keeps us up for most of the night.” In his cheerful exhaustion, Mr. Horan pulled out his phone to show off pictures of the newest Horan family member. Zayn wandered over to take a look. The baby was tiny and pudgy and pink but he had the same round, happy blue eyes of Liam’s best friend. Liam couldn’t believe he’d ever seen this baby as cause for sadness.

“Don’t let the pinchable cheeks fool you,” Niall said as he squirted mustard on a sandwich. “Kid can raise hell when he wants to, which is all the time.” To Liam, with a grin, “It’s good to be home.”

“Glad to have you back,” Zayn said. “Congratulations, Mr. Horan.”

“Please, call me Bobby. And you are…”

“Zayn.” Zayn held his hand out for Mr. Horan to shake.

“My b-boyfriend,” Liam clarified cautiously, unsure how Mr. Horan would react to the label (though it was worth it just to see the blinding smile flash across Zayn’s face).

Mr. Horan was totally unruffled. “Nice to meet you,” was all he said, accompanied with a polite smile for Zayn. Liam exhaled with some relief.

“I see tea on the stove. Do you guys want tea?” Niall offered from the kitchen.

“Please,” Mr. Horan accepted, taking a seat on the reclining chair in the living room. “This place is so much cleaner than when we visited over Thanksgiving,” he commented. “That must be Liam’s doing.”

“Yup,” Niall said proudly, like he’d been the one to receive the compliment. “He’s a good influence, that one.”

Liam ducked his head shyly and accompanied Zayn back over to the couch, where Liam’s bedclothes were still strewn across the cushions. Liam bunched them up into a corner self-consciously.

“Zayn’s the one transferring this semester,” Niall explained to his father from the other room.

“Oh.” Mr. Horan looked pleasantly surprised. “I’m sure you’ll have a great experience. Niall loved his first year.”

“I’m looking forward to it,” Zayn said politely, resting a hand on Liam’s knee, undoubtedly sensing Liam’s mounting anxiety at the discussion of school.

“He’s going to major in English,” continued Niall as he carried over mugs of tea.

“Really?” said Mr. Horan with interest. “My undergraduate degrees are in Professional Writing and Rhetoric, and Literature.”

“Really?” Zayn leaned forward. “That’s awesome. I’d love to study Lit. What is it you do now?”

“I went on to law school,” Mr. Horan said, sipping his tea. “In corporate law, now. That something you’re interested in?”

“Not really. Thinking more about teaching, though monetarily I’m sure law school’s the better bet.” Zayn gave a hollow laugh, and Liam covered Zayn’s hand with his own.

Mr. Horan was nonplussed. “Maybe. But I can tell you, the English teachers I had in high school changed my life. Never would’ve discovered my interest in the subject without them.”

Judging by Zayn's raised eyebrows, Liam would say this was not the answer he'd been expecting.

Niall brought in the last of the tea and plopped down on the floor across from Liam and Zayn. Silence fell, and Liam could feel that they were about to get down to the crux of Mr. Horan’s visit.

“So,” Niall began, but made no effort to actually finish the sentence.

Luckily, Mr. Horan seemed to have gone into business mode, and had his wits more about him.

“Liam, when Niall told Maura and me in May that you would be moving in, we had absolutely no problem with it. You’re a good kid, and I think it’s been nice for Niall to have company. And obviously you’ve been a, uh,” he smiled wryly at Niall, “good influence.”

Liam tensed at the impending “but.”

“But,” Mr. Horan continued, all seriousness now, “we were under the impression that this was just a summer arrangement, and we were _not_ made aware of the circumstances surrounding your visit.”

Liam felt the prickles of anxiety and looked to Niall, mouth open.

Niall was looking back at him with a slightly guilty expression. “I told them,” he admitted. “When your mom, ah, visited. I told them what was going on.”

Liam choked on his breath and felt Zayn’s hand tighten its hold around his knee. “I—oh.”

“Obviously this changes things, somewhat,” Mr. Horan said somberly.

Liam blinked, struggling to process what Mr. Horan was saying. Did he want Liam to leave? Was he being too much trouble, attracting possibly dangerous people to Niall’s home? Could Liam no longer be considered a good influence? “D-don’t make m-me leave,” Liam begged in a hushed voice.

“Fuck, Liam.” Niall’s face was pulled in a pained expression. “No one’s making you leave, okay?” Zayn slipped an arm around Liam’s waist comfortingly.

But then...Liam still didn’t understand. He looked questioningly at Mr. Horan, who looked slightly uncomfortable for having upset Liam.

“No one’s making you go anywhere, Liam,” Mr. Horan reiterated. “But if Maura and I had the full story from the beginning,” here he shot a reprimanding look at Niall, who averted his eyes, “then we certainly would have handled things differently.”

This didn’t sound any better to Liam, but he was too anxious to ask where Mr. Horan was going.

“If we’d known that you were running from an abusive household, we would have, of course, been more involved. I’m sorry that we weren’t there to offer you the support you may have needed over the last few months.” Liam was speechless. “I just want you to know that you can count on Maura and myself for anything you need. We are more than happy to finance your academic endeavors. Or, if you are, understandably, not quite ready to go back to school, you always have a place to stay with us.”

Liam leaned against Zayn’s side for support. “Wh-what? No...I-I…You c-can’t—I mean, I’m n-not…”

“Liam, you may legally be an adult, but you’re nineteen years old,” said Mr. Horan reasonably. “You expect to handle all this on your own—and Maura and I wouldn’t let you. I know it’s overwhelming, but we’re here to help in whatever way we can.”

Liam was, quite suddenly, overcome with tears, which pretty much put an end to the conversation until Zayn finally coaxed Liam out of his neck to take a sip of stone cold tea nearly ten minutes later.

***

After Liam’s emotional outburst, he did manage to get a few things settled. First, he would be staying here with Niall. Kind as the Horans were to offer their household, 1) they had a newborn to take care of, and 2) Liam could not bear living apart from Niall and Zayn. Second, the earliest Liam would be enrolling in school was spring semester, mostly because registration for classes at even the local community colleges had closed by now _._ But also because if Liam was going back to school, he wanted to apply somewhere with a bachelor's program. (The issue of whether or not the Horans would be paying his tuition was a debate Liam was still carrying on with Mr. Horan, but had only minimal hope of winning, given that Mr. Horan was a lawyer and Liam was Liam.) Also, Liam would be damned if he didn’t contribute _something_ to this whole school expenditure, so spending the fall and winter saving up some money seemed like the best idea.

Mr. Horan did not stay for very long. He called a cab just after dinner, carrying a tupperware of Liam’s lasagna and enough muffins to feed a small army, and still resolutely ignoring Liam’s insistence that the Horan’s _loan_ him the money for tuition.

“It was nice to meet you, Zayn,” Mr. Horan spoke over Liam, reaching out to shake Zayn’s hand once again. “Keep me posted on your studies.”

“Will do, sir,” Zayn said with a radiant smile.

“And you,” Mr. Horan directed to his son, “stay out of trouble. And for the love of god, get another twin bed for that room. It’s a wonder Liam hasn’t already developed debilitating back issues, sleeping on that couch.”

“Will do, sir,” Niall echoed Zayn, bouncing on his heels happily.

“M-Mister Horan—” Liam tried again.

“And you, Liam,” Mr. Horan interrupted as he pulled his son in for one last hug and opened the door, “we’ll be in touch soon, okay?”

Liam deflated. “Okay.” Mr. Horan graced them all with a departing grin and closed the door.

“Your dad’s awesome, Niall,” Zayn said, and returned to the kitchen sink to finish scrubbing the dishes.

“Yeah, he’s pretty great,” Niall agreed.

Liam followed Zayn back into the kitchen to resume his dish-drying duties.

“Told you Niall’s parents loved you,” Zayn said smugly and Liam stuck out his tongue.

“Seriously, though, N-Niall.” Liam turned to look at his best friend. “Your p-p-parents _can’t_ —”

“Dude, my parents are going to do whatever they want,” Niall said with a shrug. “And I wouldn’t say this in, you know, any other company, but honestly? The money isn’t an issue.”

Liam had been to Niall’s house in high school. Liam was _very_ aware of that.

“But they’ve g-got a new b-baby…” Liam trailed off miserably, not sure how this changed matters, but still feeling like it _should_ somehow.

“Try to imagine it from their perspective,” Niall said instead, putting a stack of dishes back in the cabinet. “They find out that their son’s best friend has been kicked out by his abusive parents, one of whom is now in jail—oh yeah, mentioned that part too, sorry—and is planning on sleeping on your son’s couch and working minimum wage jobs for the foreseeable future because he can’t afford school. You really think they’d just be like, ‘well, sucks to be you Liam’?”

Liam stared miserably down at the plate he was wiping off.

“Liam, I know it’s difficult to accept, but they care about you and they just want to help.” Liam’s eyes flicked up to see Niall looking at him earnestly. “Just let them help you. Please.”

“Okay,” Liam sighed, handing over the dried dish to Niall with resignation. “Okay.”

***

Liam didn’t get to give Zayn his List until the following evening when they were hanging out at Zayn’s place. Now that Niall was back in town, he’d been more or less attached to Liam’s side. Liam didn’t mind—he knew it was probably as stressful for Niall to be away from Liam for the past week as it had been for Liam—but that meant getting Zayn alone at the apartment was a virtual impossibility.

They were sitting on Zayn’s bed, flipping through his comic books, when Liam chalked up the courage to give Zayn the List. “I have something for you,” he blurted out into the nearly silent room and Zayn looked up from The Avengers in surprise.

“Sorry?”

Liam fumbled around in his pocket, where he’d been keeping the List on hand for the past couple of days, and held the folded-up loose leaf out to Zayn tremulously.

Zayn took Liam’s offering with a bemused expression and unfolded it. The crinkling of paper seemed to echo, impossibly loud, around Liam’s head. Liam, unsure what to do with himself but wholly unwilling to watch Zayn as he read the note, distracted himself from the mounting urge to make a break for it by staring vacantly at the comic book on his lap and turning the pages with what he hoped was believable frequency.

After an eternity, “Liam.”

Liam tore his eyes away from the panel he’d been staring at to look nervously up at Zayn, who immediately leaned forward to capture Liam’s lips in a kiss. Liam allowed the comic to slide sideways off his lap as Zayn moved to kneel before him, hands on Liam’s cheeks, kissing him fervently.

“You really think all that?” Zayn finally managed to get out between kisses.

“Y-y-yes,” Liam said breathlessly. “Y-you’re the b-b-best thing that’s ever h-h-happened t-to me.”

“ _Liam_ ,” Zayn breathed against Liam’s mouth, pressing a kiss into the corner of his lips, then his cheek, then his jaw line. Liam felt something fiery bloom under his skin at each spot Zayn touched. Grappling for an anchor, he lifted his hands to hold onto Zayn’s waist, and felt one of Zayn’s hands run through his hair. “I love you.”

Quite suddenly, before Liam even had the opportunity to process the words that had just come out of Zayn’s mouth, Zayn was leaning back on his heels, looking startled with himself. “I—sorry,” was all he said.

Liam brushed his fingertips across the spot on his cheek Zayn’s lips had just been touching. “Sorry?” he parroted back to Zayn.

Wait, Zayn _loved_ him?

 _Loved_ Liam?

Zayn pulled an apologetic face. “Sorry,” he said again. “I know we’ve been dating for, like, less than two months. And maybe it’s a bit too soon to say it, and you don’t have to say it back, but. I really _do_ love you, Liam.”

Liam was floored. He felt light as air, like if Zayn’s hand wasn’t resting on his knee, he might just float away and bob around on the ceiling. At the same time, he felt like his whole body was filled with hot, heavy molten lava. So very strange. Liam also believed his heart was on the verge of beating out of his chest.

“You…l-love me,” Liam tested how the words sounded coming from his own mouth, and nearly smiled at the happy flutter in his chest when he said it.

“Yeah. I do.” Zayn appeared carefully optimistic, now that it was apparent Liam would neither break down crying or flee the room.

“Wow,” Liam whispered, staring at Zayn in awe. “You—r-really?”

Zayn swatted him playfully on the knee and let out a shaky laugh. “Yeah, really.” Then leaned closer to Liam to say slowly, deliberately, “I love you, Liam Payne.”

To which Liam responded by planting his lips back on Zayn’s. It felt like he should be freaking out more over this...this grand declaration. But in a weird way, Liam felt like he should have already known Zayn loved him.

Zayn chuckled against Liam’s mouth and pushed back with equal enthusiasm. Liam allowed himself to be lowered so that he was lying on one of Zayn’s pillows before Zayn withdrew a couple inches. “Is this okay?”

The tone demanded honesty, which Liam was more than willing to offer. Zayn wasn’t exactly straddling him, just on all fours above Liam, using one hand to brace himself against the mattress and cupping Liam’s cheek with the other. As Liam gazed up at his boyfriend, who was watching him intently, Liam realized this did feel okay. It was nothing like the incident with the door, a position already associated with painful memories of feeling trapped. This felt more like…protected. Zayn covering Liam’s body with his own without invading. Safe.

Liam brought his hands cautiously to Zayn’s sides again, and rested them on Zayn’s hips, where his shirt had fallen open to expose bare skin. Zayn shivered a bit at the touch, but his face broke into a happy smile. Liam relished the minor skin-to-skin contact, awash in the feeling of being _loved_.

“Y-yeah. I’m good,” he whispered, matching Zayn’s smile. “This is good.”

***

Liam would have spent a lot of time worrying about when it was appropriate to say “I love you” back to Zayn, if not for the fact that a) Zayn, having anticipated this dilemma, made a point of reminding Liam what felt like every hour, on the hour, that Liam should _never_ say those three words because he felt like he _should_ say them, and b) with the summer winding down, there were plenty of other things to demand Liam’s attention.

First and foremost, Liam needed to start looking for a new job. Simon had offered to keep Liam on for post-season work, but that mostly involved moving things into storage, doing a lot of heavy lifting, and working with people (primarily landscaping employees) that Liam neither knew, nor particularly cared to know. So Liam was on the job hunt again.

But only very briefly.

“Guess what?” Zayn said as soon as he arrived in the filter room attic on Thursday, looking gleefully at Liam.

“What?” said Louis without glancing up from the card game he was engaged in with Harry and Niall.

“Not news for you, sorry Lou,” Zayn said without sounding sorry at all. To Liam, “Found you a job.”

Liam’s mouth popped open. “What? R-Really? Where?”

“That bookshop I was telling you about on our first date. Well, pre-first date,” Zayn explained. “I was talking to the owner when I was in there the other day, and he says he’s hiring for the fall, since the kid he’s got on right now is going back to school.”

Liam wrapped his arms happily around Zayn. “Thank you.”

“No problem, love. We can swing by after work, if you want. I’ll introduce you to the Mr. Tombaugh--the owner--he’s really nice. I think you’ll like him.”

“Zayn, I’ll be looking for a job on campus this fall, if you want to get a head start on that for me,” Niall mentioned, like Lou, totally engrossed in the game.

“I’m flipping you off right now,” Zayn notified Niall when it was apparent Niall would not be looking up from the fan of cards in his hand.

Niall returned the gesture before laying his next move.

“Oh, and I have something for you.” Zayn looked excitedly back at Liam.

Liam emitted an audible gasp when Zayn withdrew his iPod nano from his pocket and turned it on. “H-How?” demanded Liam, taking the little device reverently in his hands.

“Waliyha put it in a bowl of rice that day after I took it home and left it in there all vacation. I totally didn’t expect it to work, but when we got back, poof!” Zayn clapped his hands together enthusiastically. “Like magic, dude, I swear.”

“But y-you alr-r-ready bought a new one,” Liam said.

Zayn looked at him blankly. “It’s for you,” he said slowly, like he couldn’t believe Liam could be so oblivious.

“ _What?”_

“Yeah,” Zayn laughed. “Obviously I have my new one, and obviously you need an iPod. I’ve already made sure all my old stuff is back on there for you.”

“Y-you--I--mine?”

“Yours,” Zayn confirmed, and Liam could have kissed him (and did, in fact).

“But I d-don’t have anyth-thing for you,” Liam lamented, trying to remember when he would receive his next paycheck.

“You don’t have to get anything for me.”

Liam gave Zayn a disgruntled look.

“Think of it as a belated birthday present, if you want.”

“M-my birthd-day’s in March.” 

“Early Christmas, then?”

Liam wasn’t having it.

“Here’s how you can return the favor, if you insist,” Zayn allowed. “You’ll have tons of time to read while you’re working in the bookstore. It’s basically all the cashier ever does when he’s not checking people out. You didn’t read _Harry Potter_ this summer, despite my explicit instructions to the contrary. So you have to read it this fall. Deal?”

This was the weirdest agreement Liam had ever been party to. “Deal,” he said, because what choice did he have?

“Zayn if I promise to read all your favorite books, will you give me an iPod?” Louis inquired.

“Not a chance,” Zayn quipped.

“You’ve never offered to read any of _my_ favorite books,” Harry said, affronted.

Lou shrugged. “You’ve never paid me off with an iPod.”

Harry _hmmph_ -ed.

“Thank you,” Liam murmured to Zayn, holding the iPod tightly to his chest.

In lieu of _you’re welcome_ , Zayn responded with a firm kiss on the lips.

***

“So I was thinking,” Zayn said the next afternoon, apropos of nothing, as they sat on his bed. Liam cast him a curious sidelong glance and dog-eared the page of the Spider-Man comic he was currently immersed in. “We should maybe have a discussion about… _touching_ type things. Like, when we’re not already into doing something, ‘cause I just want to make sure we’re on the same page with everything, after. You know. _That_.”

Liam winced. Yeah. _That_.

“Which I’m not mad about,” Zayn hurried to elaborate. “Seriously, Liam.” He twisted in bed to take Liam’s hands and look him dead-on. “I’m not. I just don’t want to hurt you _ever_ , if I can avoid it.”

Liam gripped Zayn’s hands a bit tighter and nodded quickly.

“Okay. So, can I start off by asking what _exactly_ it was that bothered you? Are you fine talking about that?”

Liam shrugged. “The…the d-door,” he admitted. “Being pushed up ag-gainst the door. M-My dad…” Liam shuddered.

“Hey, it’s okay.” Zayn brought a hand up to Liam’s cheek. “You're okay.”

Liam swallowed.

“Anything else? Or was it just generally too much touching?”

Liam took a moment to consider his answer. “I’m just n-not used to ha-aving someone in my s-space in a w-way that doesn’t…hurt,” he disclosed softly. “The l-logical p-part of me _knows_ that you’re n-not going to hurt me, but somet-t-times the r-rest of me forgets.” He scratched his arm irritatedly. “Does that m-make sense?”

“Sure,” Zayn said, but Liam wasn’t sure whether he _actually_ understood, or whether he was just trying to comfort Liam. “Then, does going slow help at all? Telling you what I’m doing before I do it?”

Liam nodded slowly. “Some. I w-want you to k-keep d-doing that. Please,” he tacked on for good measure.

“Obviously I will,” Zayn said without a moment’s thought. “And you tell me immediately if you don’t like something.”

Liam nodded hastily. “S-sorry this is so…complicated.” Liam was starting to hate that word.

Zayn raised an eyebrow. “Liam, I love you,” said Zayn, and no matter how many times he heard it, Liam wasn’t sure he’d ever be accustomed to the wave of happiness that rocked him every time Zayn said that phrase. “All the kissing and hugging and cuddling and anything else we do in future—it’s an expression of how much I care about you. None of that matters if you’re not totally on board, if it’s not something that makes you feel good. If doing that stuff makes you uncomfortable, it’s sort of counterproductive, don’t you think?”

Liam tipped his forehead to rest against Zayn’s, mulling that over. “H-how did I g-get so lucky?” Liam wondered aloud, echoing the words Zayn had spoken to Liam the day they officially started dating. While sometimes Liam still couldn’t quite believe those words could ever be directed at _him_ , especially by someone like Zayn, Liam often found himself wondering the same thing about Zayn. How did Liam get so lucky?

“Because you’re an especially wonderful person,” Zayn said in a _duh_ tone of voice.

Liam rolled his eyes but smiled all the same.

“Well, thank y-you, still. F-for going s-slow, and everything.”

“’Course, love.” Zayn paused for a moment. “Can we try something?”

Liam’s heartbeat quickened. “What?”

Zayn adjusted himself into a kneeling position. “Is it okay if I take my shirt off?”

Liam opened his mouth, unsure what to say. What an odd request. “Yes?”

“That won’t make you uncomfortable?” Zayn clarified.

Liam thought about it and shook his head. On the contrary, he felt a twinge of...excitement? Or at least, anticipation. Zayn pulled his shirt over his head and Liam’s breath hitched as he ran his eyes of Zayn’s bare chest. He felt a blush creeping up his neck and permeating his cheeks. Zayn scooted forward so that he was right in front of where Liam sat cross-legged, back against the headboard.

“Hand?” Zayn requested.

Liam held his hand out tentatively and Zayn took it, leading it slowly to rest on Zayn’s chest, right over his heart. Liam could feel the faint _thump-thump_ beneath his fingertips.

“What are w-we doing?” Liam asked in a hushed voice that seemed appropriate for the circumstances, even if he couldn’t pinpoint exactly _why_.

“Well, the touching thing is a two-way street,” Zayn said, taking Liam’s other hand to place it on his waist. “And I figured, maybe this might help you get more comfortable with physical intimacy, as a thing. Just in general. Without making you feel...encroached upon.”

Liam cautiously ran his hand along Zayn’s side, coming to rest on his ribcage, but did not move the other hand from Zayn’s heart.

“What are you thinking?” Zayn asked, stroking his own thumb along Liam’s jaw encouragingly.

“It f-feels...nice,” Liam said honestly. Niggling feelings of inadequacy as he beheld Zayn’s naked torso aside, Liam could kind of understand why people wanted to touch each other all the time. Feeling connected to someone like this was nearly incomparable to anything Liam had experienced before. It felt like another way of Zayn saying _I love you_ , just without the words.

“Have you ever…” Liam met Zayn’s eyes uncertainly. Could he ask? Was it inappropriate?

Zayn raised his eyebrows expectantly.

To hell with it. “W-with other...anyone e-else, d-d-did you ever…” Fuck, Liam couldn’t even force himself to verbalize it.

Zayn, though, seemed to have already guessed what Liam was trying to ask.

“A guy in high school,” Zayn replied, looking at his own hand on Liam’s face instead of at Liam himself. “We’d been dating a while, mostly just casual. It was our senior year, so neither of us was particularly invested in the other, long-term. Broke up a few months after losing our virginity to each other.” Zayn shrugged. “Messed around with a couple other guys and dated a bit during freshman year, but nothing serious.”

Liam had always known Zayn had more romantic experience than he did (as did most ten-year-olds, honestly), but actually _knowing_ his boyfriend’s romantic history struck a slightly painful chord in him. Liam huffed and tried not to let his stupid insecurity get in the way here, but, “And y-you _seriously_ d-don’t mind me--”

“Liam.” Zayn took his face in both hands now and forced Liam to look him in the eye. “None of those guys made me feel the way I feel about you. I _love_ you. Okay? I’m in this just as much as you are. I love you, I love you, I love you,” Zayn repeated as he leaned in, punctuating the point with a kiss on Liam’s nose. Liam wrinkled his nose and succumbed to a smile.

“You really love m-me,” Liam said.

“I really, _really_ do,” Zayn assured, lifting Liam’s hand from his chest to kiss it gently. Liam tilted forward to plant a kiss right over Zayn’s heart and Zayn’s smile was like fucking _sunshine_.

***

The following day was Harry’s last day of work for the season. It was also the first day Liam didn’t leave the filter room even once, unwilling to give up his last moments of the summer with his friend. Liam would have glued himself to Harry’s hip, were that position not already assumed by Louis.

“You’re g-going with him t-to move in tom-m-morrow,” Liam grouched with no real bite while Louis clung to Harry, arms wrapped around his neck like a koala bear.

“And you’re visiting next weekend, Lou,” Harry reminded him. Looking over Louis head, he addressed Liam with an eye roll, “And Niall thinks _I’m_ bad at goodbyes.”

“You are,” Niall said through a mouthful of hotdog. “I didn’t say Lou wasn’t just as bad.”

 _Awful, really_ , Harry mouthed to Liam, who smiled feebly. Harry looked sympathetic. “You can come up with Lou if you want to visit,” he offered. “He’s driving up Friday afternoon.”

Liam shook his head. Riding in Louis’s car was taking your life in your hands on a good day, let alone when he was anxious to see his boyfriend, so a forty-five minute car ride with him was probably not the best for Liam’s generally frayed nerves. Also, Liam had no illusions about what was going to go on between Harry and Lou for a significant part of their visits, now that Harry didn’t practically live in Louis’s apartment. Thanks, but no thanks.

“I h-have work Frid-day,” Liam said, because this was true, and to list his other reasons seemed rude.

“You got your schedule already?” Harry asked.

Liam nodded. Mr. Tombaugh was, as Zayn said, a very nice man. Quiet, just like his shop and most of the customers in it. Perfect for Liam, who would be working there five days a week. He would have done seven, if Niall and Mr. Horan hadn’t absolutely insisted he only work weekdays. Mr. Horan had told Liam, not in so many words, that it would probably be beneficial to his mental health not to be working all the time. “Live a little” had been Niall’s advice. Liam figured they amounted to about the same thing.

Niall’s dad was telling the truth when he said he’d be in touch. Liam felt like a day didn’t go by when he wasn’t updated on what the Horans were up to, how Greg was, and the Horans' plans for Liam (both via Niall and texts on Liam’s new phone--courtesy of the Horans, of course, who claimed it was downright dangerous for him not to have access to mobile communication, though given recent events Liam wasn’t even sure he could argue).

Niall’s dad was also telling the truth when he said they would be more involved in Liam’s life, now that they understood why he was a more permanent fixture in Niall’s life. Niall’s room in the apartment really couldn’t fit another twin bed, so after Niall’s lease was up in September, they would be moving to another apartment within walking distance of Liam’s new place of employment and campus (which was great for Niall, getting to classes, and great for Liam, getting to Zayn’s dorm). Moreover, Niall had apparently mentioned to his parents that Liam was considering seeking professional help, and the Horans were immediately on board. Mr. Horan said he’d be pleased to do some research on local practices when he got a spare moment, but Liam insisted he at least do _this_ for himself. He was already wildly uncomfortable with all the Horans were doing for him. Liam simply didn’t know how he could ever repay them. (“You don’t need to,” had been Niall’s entirely unhelpful solution.)

But when Liam brought up the small matter of paying for therapy (which really _was_ small, compared to the tuition the Horan’s resolutely maintained they were ready to fork over whenever Liam was up to the task of getting himself through school) Mr. Horan had a suggestion: If Liam really felt like he needed to pay something (he did, staunchly) then he could contribute five dollars for each session. Maybe they could increase the value in increments as Liam saved some more money. Could Liam agree to that?

After much protesting, Liam resigned to the fact that this was the best he was going to get.

So he was on the hunt for a therapist.

But only very briefly.

“Guess what?” Zayn asked Liam when he arrived in the filter room later that afternoon. “Found you a therapist.”

“What?” Liam said, because really, was Zayn magical or something?

“I mean, if you _want_ to meet with this person,” Zayn amended. “Of course, it’s your choice.”

“Who?”

Zayn scratched his jaw. “I called the lady I used to go to in high school, since she’s local. She’s super nice, I think you’d like her. But there’s another woman in her practice who specializes in helping kids with...you know. Troubled backgrounds.”

Liam wasn’t sure he liked the phrasing, but at least Zayn had tried to be delicate. And it was a woman. That made Liam feel minutely better about the whole thing.

“You don’t have to commit right now, obviously. We can set up an appointment, if you want, and just go talk to her,” Zayn said. Then frowned. “I mean, you can. Go talk to her. Sorry, didn’t mean to assume--”

“W-would you g-go with me?” Liam asked, because now that this thing was actually on the verge of being set up, the tendrils of anxiety were starting to creep into his stomach. “Th-the first time?”

Zayn’s expression softened. “Yeah, yeah of course. Whatever you’re comfortable with.”

Liam nodded once, curtly. “Thanks.”

Zayn wrapped a hand around Liam’s forearm and swiped his thumb across the inside of his wrist, right over his pulse, and Liam was reminded of another time Zayn had sat in this position, offering comfort, talking Liam down from panic.

“I think it’s really brave, you doing this,” Zayn said, and Liam snorted because there were many things he felt, but _brave_ was certainly not one of them. “I’m serious,” Zayn urged. “I know _you_ don’t think so, but just so you know, _I_ do.”

Liam decided that he could probably live with that, for now.

Before they went to clock out later that afternoon, Liam wrapped himself in Harry’s arms for a tight, sustained hug.

“I’ll miss you,” Liam mumbled into his shoulder, blinking away tears.

“You too, buddy,” Harry said. “But I’m just an hour away. I know you’re off on weekends, so you and Nialler will have to come up and see me, yeah? I’ll be down to visit all the time. Call me, okay?”

“‘kay,” Liam agreed.

“You’re still welcome to come visit next weekend,” Harry reminded him.

“Don’t steal him, Liam’s already promised to help me move in next Saturday,” Zayn protested.

“You living on campus, then?” said Lou, who had somehow managed to slip his arms around Harry’s waist from behind even though he and Liam were still mid-hug.

“Yup. Need some healthy separation from my parents.” Zayn said this with a grin, though, so Liam knew there was no malice behind the words.

“All right boys, this is the last time we’re all gonna be in this room for another year,” Niall said bracingly, whisking a Sharpie marker out of his pocket. “Assuming, of course, none of us get internships or take summer classes or grownup bullshit like that. So.” He looked around at each of them seriously. “New things to add to the list?”

Liam glanced over at the gruffly scrawled _Rules of Being a Janitor_.

“Zayn, you’re an honorary janitor, I’d say, so feel free to offer your input,” Niall said.

“Always cheat against Lou in card games,” Zayn suggested.

“Never trust the landscaping employees,” Harry tacked on, winking at Liam, who blushed.

“No heated make-out sessions on the lunch table,” Niall said with a pointed look at Harry and Louis.

“Never interrupt two people who are in the middle of making out on a lunch table,” Louis shot back.

“Liam, you have one?” Zayn cut in before Niall could make a snide retort.

Liam considered. “Always l-let the hot b-b-boy from v-vending help you c-c-carry your w-water bottle,” he said sagely.

“Amen,” Zayn agreed, drawing Liam in by the waist and slotting his lips over Liam’s.

“Aww, you guys!” Niall cooed, before enveloping them both in his arms, a hug that Harry and Louis soon joined.

Liam--pressed between these four people, his forehead resting against Zayn’s, their hands linked together--was pleased to say the he felt no sense of encroaching anxiety. No wild urge to flee. Rather, he felt like he could stay here like this, with his family, for just about forever and be totally, utterly content.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because I've never seen a story end with a group hug, but dammit, I like group hugs.  
> Anyway. 
> 
> Epilogue soon to be posted in the chapter 12 slot :)
> 
> Wow, haven't had a chapter this long since the first one. I hope that maybe makes up for taking almost three weeks to update. 
> 
> So, now that we just have the epilogue to go, question for you guys (because you're obviously brave enough to start reading stories while they're still in their in-progress phase, which is more than mistrustful people like myself generally are willing to do haha): do you prefer these long-separated, but long-length chapters, or do you prefer faster, shorter updates?


	12. Part 12 (Epilogue)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Get to finish posting this the day after I turn twenty! Feels good to conclude two decades with this monstrosity being completed. (And happy belated anniversary to Lou and Harry, haha.)
> 
> Thanks for all your responses to the last author’s note! Most everyone seemed to like the long chapters, which surprised me but will probably influence future posts ☺ And on that note, I give you the shortest chapter of the story…

**3 Years Later (May 2016)**

 

When Liam awoke, there was an arm draped over his waist and a pillow that bore the faint smell of detergent under his cheek. He opened his eyes to an unfamiliar room, and it took a moment for Liam to remember where they were: the Maliks’ beach house in North Carolina, where Zayn’s parents had been gracious enough to put them up for the last week of May—along with Louis, Harry, and Niall—as a graduation gift to Zayn. Zayn claimed that he liked Liam’s gift the best (badges for this year’s San Diego Comic-Con) but Liam had to admit, this was pretty great too.

Liam had been to this house a couple of times during previous summers with Zayn’s family, but this was the first time they’d been out there alone. With Niall in Zayn’s usual bedroom (Zayn wouldn’t allow Lou and Harry in there, lest they befoul his childhood bed), Liam and Zayn were in the master bedroom. As Liam laced his fingers through Zayn’s over his bare stomach and allowed his eyes to wander around the room, he admired how _nice_ the place was.

There was no real hope of him falling back to sleep. Liam’s internal clock had him geared up to face the day at eight in the morning, even on weekends, thanks to early boxing classes. Liam had taken up boxing the spring after he moved in with Niall. He was feeling a bit overwhelmed with starting classes again, at a real university for the first time, where he knew exactly two out of twenty-thousand fellow students. Not that Niall or Zayn shared any of his classes. Liam still worked weekends at the bookshop but desperately missed the peace and quiet amidst the shelves and desperately needed a stress reliever.

Zayn was the one who proposed the idea. He had attended a few boxing classes on his therapist’s suggestion in high school, but didn’t stick with it, finding more peace of mind in books than the ring. Liam was initially wary of the idea, wondering how any form of violence could possibly make him feel better. But Zayn argued that Liam might enjoy the control and methodical repetition of the sport, and when Liam mentioned it to his own therapist, Regina, she was instantly on board. To be honest, she and Zayn seemed to be on the same wavelength about most things when it came to Liam—Liam couldn’t decide whether that was helpful or just creepy.

Two years later, Liam was even a bit broader than Zayn and there was more definition to his physique, which Zayn had dubbed “insanely hot” and gave Liam a tad more self confidence when he looked in the mirror. Liam had never been what one could qualify as “ripped,” but there was a certain solace he found in having control over his body and being able to defend himself. Neither of his parents had tried to make contact with him since his mother’s ill-fated visit nearly three years ago, but. Well. It was just nice to know he could take care of himself.

Liam rolled over, careful not to dislodge Zayn’s arm, and snuggled into his chest (despite the newly acquired muscle mass, there was still something about being with Zayn that made Liam feel pleasantly small). He fumbled with the duvet, trying to tug it up over them, and pressed himself as close as possible to Zayn to steal his body heat. The vent was blasting AC right over their heads and Liam was starting to wish he’d at least pulled on a t-shirt or something before they’d fallen asleep.

This was still relatively new. Not the waking up next to Zayn part. That had been a regular occurrence since Zayn moved into the dorms sophomore year.

The naked part, though. That was still pretty new.

The first time had taken place last Christmas break, when Niall was with his parents for the holidays. The three of them had been sharing an apartment for the better part of two years, and even though Niall complained about rooming with a couple nearly every time they kissed in his presence, the truth was Niall was getting more action than both Liam and Zayn—if the number of mornings Dani emerged from Niall’s room lately was any indication.

(Raised eyebrows and outright questions had not elicited any further information on this development from Niall, who claimed they _weren’t labeling it_ , but Lou and Harry both had running bets on how long it would take for them to make it official.)

It wasn’t that Liam and Zayn hadn’t done _anything_ before that. Though, to be fair, it _had_ taken Liam until the previous summer to let Zayn get him anywhere near a state of total undress. For Liam, their first time had been a lot of stuttering, blushing, and _pleasepleaseplease_ without Liam entirely knowing what he was asking for. Luckily, it was also a lot of Zayn talking him through everything, whispering words of encouragement, and holding Liam like he was the most precious thing in the whole world. And a lot of cuddling when it was over, which was a massive plus.

Definitely worth the wait, Liam thought.

Zayn must have agreed, because here they were, six months later, and in the intervening time, Niall had plenty of excuses to _actually_ complain about sharing the apartment with them. He kept vowing to move out, but had taken no steps to do so. Liam didn’t know how Lou and Harry found out that he and Zayn had actually done the deed. All he knew was that one day a package was delivered to their doorstep containing a bright pink vibrator and a note reading _Congratulations on your fornication!_ signed from Louis and Harry, though Liam was pretty sure Louis had signed on Harry’s behalf.

Liam lifted his head ever so slightly to glance at the nightstand clock over Zayn’s shoulder. It was nearly nine o’clock now, and there was definitely no chance of dozing off.

Cautiously, Liam extricated himself from Zayn’s embrace and stood up. Zayn wrinkled his nose without opening his eyes when his arm flopped down onto the sheets, but when Liam supplied his slumbering boyfriend with a pillow, he seemed content to cuddle with that instead. Liam rolled his eyes and ducked out for a shower. He had big plans for today: Liam was going to teach Zayn how to swim. Granted, Zayn had only agreed to said plan the night before when Liam was undoing the zipper of his pants, but after three years Liam had finally gotten verbal agreement and he was holding Zayn to that.

When Liam returned from the shower a few minutes later, towel-wrapped and dripping, he found Zayn squinting up at him from the bed.

“What time’sit?” he slurred, clearly just on the brink of wakefulness.

“Nine,” Liam replied. “Up and at ‘em.”

“What? No. Why?” Zayn moaned, rolling back to plant his face in the pillow again.

“Today, you l-learn to swim,” Liam reminded Zayn as he pulled on a pair of swim trunks.

The words had more or less the effect of dousing Zayn with icy water (which had been Liam’s Plan B). He sat up ramrod straight and looked at Liam with abject horror. “ _What?_ ”

Liam grinned smugly. “You _said_ —”

Zayn waved him off. “I know what I said. But I also recall when I said it, and that totally doesn’t count. I was unfairly distracted.”

“Sorry n-not sorry. Go shower.”

Zayn tilted his head and said, “You already showered? Without me?” Liam nodded. “ _Liam_.” Zayn rose from his seated position on the bed, allowing the sheets to slowly slide off him. He strode over to Liam and hooked his fingers into the waistband of Liam’s bathing suit. Liam gulped. “But I like it when we shower _together_. How about this. Instead of that whole _swimming_ business, why don’t you lose the swim trunks, and we can—”

Liam shook his head. Must be strong. “Stop d-distracting m-me with your s-sexiness,” he huffed, reluctantly removing Zayn’s wandering hands. “Sh-shower.”

That was one thing about his stutter these days: in general, it was better, but that only made it all the more noticeable when Liam was flustered. And Zayn took great pleasure in making Liam flustered, in this respect (predictably, Zayn grinned like a Cheshire cat before he obeyed Liam’s order and headed off to the bathroom—Liam watched his retreating naked form somewhat regretfully).

Liam had started speech therapy the summer after their sophomore year, when Regina mentioned he might find it helpful. The stammering issue had improved somewhat over the course of his sessions with her, though this was not altogether unexpected. Liam didn’t need a professional to tell him that his speech issues stemmed primarily from his anxiety issues, which were assuaged the more time Liam spent away from his parents and the more sessions he had with Regina.

Liam went home the evening after Regina broached the subject of speech therapy and relayed the idea to Zayn.

“D-do you think I sh-should?” he had asked, picking at his food uncertainly while he watched Zayn turn the idea over in his head.

Zayn shrugged. “Do you want to?”

Liam considered. Speech therapy would undoubtedly be a lot of work, a lot of frustration, and a lot of focusing attention on one of the things he disliked most about himself. But still…

How nice would it be to free himself of the stares, the snickers (thankfully less frequent in his current work environment), and the daily battle of struggling his way through sentences?

“I always thought it was kind of cute, the way you talk,” Zayn mused when Liam was too quiet for too long. “Not that you’d be any less cute without it.”

“So I w-would be _more_ c-cute without i-it?” Liam pressed while pretending that he was _not_ blushing.

Zayn leaned over to peck Liam on the cheek. “I love you,” he said, which all he _ever_ said when Liam tried to get Zayn to validate one of his insecurities.

Liam humphed, unsatisfied but resigned to the fact that this was probably the most answer he would get out of Zayn.

A month later, he was in to see his speech pathologist for the first time. It wasn’t as bad as Liam anticipated it would be. Luckily, Dr. Daya was a kind, patient woman—who had a candy jar on her desk. Liam didn’t want to say that was a _big_ part of winning him over, but it was a pretty big part of winning him over. Liam never got as close to Dr. Daya as he was with Regina, but he still looked forward to their sessions (less frequent now, with Liam’s progress).

When Zayn emerged from the bathroom, without preamble, “I really don’t want to do this. Are you sure you want to do this? I have _told_ you I’m a pain in the ass to teach…”

Liam handed Zayn a pool towel. “I think I c-can handle it.”

Zayn pouted grumpily and said, “You’re supposed to wait a certain amount of time before swimming after you eat, right? So once we eat breakfast, we’ll just have to sit around for a while, which doesn’t even seem worth it…”

“Breakfast after swim l-lessons, then.”

“Or, counterproposal,” Zayn said, “we could wait until this afternoon.”

Liam knew what he was doing. It was a short enough delay that Liam would probably acquiesce, but long enough for Zayn to distract him with another activity. Sneaky, Zayn.

Well, Liam was sneakier.

Liam raised an eyebrow and quirked one corner of his mouth up in a teasing grin. “Yeah? We could wait for L-Lou and Harry and Niall t-to get up. They’ll probably want to s-see this, maybe even video ta—”

“Okay, okay.” Zayn held his hands up in surrender. Liam mentally fist-pumped. “You win. Let me just get dressed.” He pulled out a pair of swim trunks and tugged them on with excessive force. Then looked up at Liam. “I’m going to suck at this,” he warned.

“I love you,” was Liam’s response, because two could play at the refusing-to-validate-insecurities game.

(Liam had first said the “L” word a few months after Zayn had, when he felt like he might physically burst if he held it in anymore. Even after all this time, the words still brought an uninhibited smile to Zayn’s face.)

***

“I’m starting to think this whole week was a trap laid out by you and my parents,” Zayn grumbled as Liam ushered him through the gate to the pool, one hand on the small of Zayn’s back to prevent the inevitable escape attempt. “They’ve been trying to convince me to learn how to swim for months.”

“You’re a p-pool manager,” Liam reminded him. “’s a b-bit silly _not_ to know how to swim.”

“Only this summer,” Zayn emphasized as they deposited their belongings on a pool chair. He’d been very adamant about this distinction—Zayn didn’t want anyone, least of all his father, to think that this was a career step (though even Mr. Malik had to concede to his son’s career aspirations, now that Zayn had dual degrees in English and Education). But while Zayn was in the midst of applying for a Teach for America position, he kind of desperately needed the money.

“Still,” Liam said, taking Zayn’s hand firmly to lead him towards the steps, because Liam wasn’t convinced Zayn wouldn’t bail on their plans until he actually _saw_ him get in the pool.

“Cold, cold, cold!” Zayn complained as they descended into the water.

Liam gritted his teeth. It _was_ pretty cold, but there was no way Liam was giving Zayn an out.

“You’ll feel w-warmer once you start mo-oving,” Liam promised, trying not to laugh at the way Zayn was holding his arms hovered above the surface of the water, like he was a marionette with his strings pulled up. “We’ll start w-with something easy, l-l-like floating on your back, ‘kay?”

For all Zayn’s warnings to the contrary, Liam did not find him an impossible student. Sure, Zayn did a fair share of grumbling, especially when Liam wanted him to go all the way underwater, but a half an hour later, Zayn had a pretty good doggy-paddle going across the shallow end.

“I feel stupid,” Zayn told Liam as he accidentally splashed himself in the face with water.

Liam stifled a snort. “You’re doing fine.”

“Hey, I see that! I see you smiling at my expense. Stop it.”

Liam did not, but it was probably okay since Zayn was also (grudgingly) smiling. “Are we almost finished? I made it all the way to the wall and back without touching the bottom.” Zayn awkwardly propelled his way over to where Liam was leaning against the wall and stood up. “Please,” he added, dipping his chin to look at Liam from beneath his lashes.

Well, when he put it like that. “F-for now,” Liam allowed.

Zayn grinned triumphantly and leaned in to kiss Liam, slow and gentle.

“See, th-this wasn’t s-so bad,” Liam said, slightly breathlessly, when they broke apart, tilting his forehead against Zayn’s.

“No,” Zayn conceded, resting his hands on Liam’s waist. “You’re a very good teacher.”

“Yeah?” Liam asked.

“Yeah,” Zayn confirmed sincerely. “There’s no one else I’d rather freeze my ass off in a pool with at seven o’clock in the morning than you.”

“First of all, it’s p-past ten,” Liam said. “Second, there’s no way you’re s-still cold.”

“Mmm, no,” Zayn replied, rocking his hips forward. Liam whimpered and Zayn’s smile widened. “Nope, I _definitely_ feel warmer now.”

“Hey!” Liam and Zayn both jolted with surprise and looked to see Niall leaning against the fence with Louis and Harry, who were grinning. “Don’t you _dare_ let this situation get sexy,” Niall commanded as he crossed through the gate. “I’m going for a nice morning swim and I don’t want to worry about what’s happened in or to this water before my arrival.”

“Nothing,” Liam assured him honestly, though Niall’s expression remained unconvinced, even as he shucked his t-shirt and shoes.

“We’re finished anyway,” Zayn said, pushing himself up to sit on the side of the pool before Liam could protest.

Harry came over to take a seat next to Zayn on the edge. “So, what, Zayn? Are you a proper fish now?” he asked.

“He doggy-paddles like a p-pro,” Liam said proudly. “He’ll be r-ready for the ocean, soon.”

Zayn’s “that’s a lie!” was drowned out by Louis launching himself into a cannonball right beside them, effectively dousing everyone.

“How does he have this much energy in the morning?” Zayn moaned as he wiped the water out of his eyes.

“Says the man who was about to get it on in a public pool,” Harry teased. Liam blushed.

Zayn was wholly unconcerned. “Touché.”

“Liam you have a text,” Niall informed him from the chair where they’d all been dumping their stuff. Before Liam could stand up, “It’s Regina. She says ‘hope you’re having a fun, call Monday to set up a time for us to chat this week.’”

“Tell her I said hi,” Zayn said, and Liam shook his head as he watched Niall unlock his phone to respond.

“I’d really prefer if y-you _didn’t_ read my t-t-texts, thanks,” Liam said. “They could be private!”

“Please. The only person you have any business sending private messages to is sitting right next to you,” Niall said unconcernedly without looking up from the screen.

Liam sighed. “Tell her I said hi, t-too.”

Regina was hands-down one of Liam’s favorite people in the world. She was a difficult _not_ to like, with the sunny disposition of Niall and a budget of patience with Liam to rival Zayn’s. As it turned out, she not only had experience counseling children with “troubled backgrounds,” but had some first hand experience as a lesbian growing up in a fundamentalist Christian household. Until she’d been caught kissing her girlfriend at age sixteen and promptly sent packing.

Regina understood Liam’s experiences in ways that not even the other boys could, and she’d played a pivotal role in helping him get his life back on track, especially starting school again. She’d even given him the confidence to pursue psychology, in the hopes that one day Liam could help someone else the way Regina had helped him. Liam still couldn’t believe that after just one more semester, he’d have his degree.

“Told her you’d call on Monday ‘round noon,” Niall said, flopping down next to Zayn on the edge of the pool.

“Thanks.”

“No problem. Oh, and speaking of texts, you’re probably going to get one from my mom later today about whether you can come down to visit in a couple weeks. She’s throwing me a surprise graduation party.” Liam turned to look at Niall. “Needless to say, Dad kind of accidentally ruined the ‘surprise’ part already,” he explained.

“Ah. Yeah, of course I’ll c-come. Haven’t s-seen Greg in a while.”

“The terrible twos,” Niall said reflectively. “That kid is insane.”

“He’s cute,” Liam defended.

“Last time I babysat, I saw him eat a whole candle, wick and all,” said Niall. “And then, you know, subsequently barf it back up. Cute is not the word.”

“Aaaand on that note, do you want to get food now?” Zayn cut in. “I’m starving.”

“Sure. It’s almost eleven,” Liam replied, checking his watch. “B-breakfast food, or lunch?”

“I could do lunch,” Niall said. “Why don’t we get pizza delivered?”

“Didn’t you just eat breakfast before coming to the pool?” Zayn asked incredulously.

“What’s your point?”

“Pizza’s good with me,” Liam said while Zayn gave Niall a vaguely disgusted look.

“The local place doesn’t deliver,” said Zayn, “we’d have to go get it.”

“That’s okay,” Liam assured as he watched Louis tackle Harry into the water. “It’s only s-so long before Louis s-s-suggests a game of chicken, and unless you want that t-to be part two of your swim lesson...”

“Liam and I are ordering pizza,” Zayn announced loudly to the hooligans in the pool. “Who wants what?”

Once he’d collected their orders, Zayn stepped away call up the pizza place.

“It’s gonna be weird, none of us working at the park this year,” Harry remarked as he traced his fingers around the surface of the water.

“Probably for the best,” Niall said. “Now that Zayn’s running the show, he can’t in good conscience let people like us work there anyway.”

This would be the first summer none of the janitors would be reuniting for three months of feigned productivity. Niall would be shadowing his uncle at a recording studio, getting some much-needed hands-on experience for his music production degree. The last two summers, Harry had been helping run a summer program for kids at the local library (Liam couldn’t imagine a better place for Harry than seated on a carpet, surrounded by four-year-olds, making books come alive). Since Louis was required to TA a couple of intro sociology classes as part of his master’s program at the university, he usually tried to get that out of the way during the summer semester. And Liam would be back to working full time at the bookshop while taking a couple of online classes to make up for community college credits that didn’t transfer.

“Zayn’s really serious about this Teach for America thing, isn’t he?” Louis asked as he drifted back towards the where the rest of them were clustered in the shallow end. To Liam, he added, “They can send him anywhere in the country, right? Have you guys talked about that?”

“A bit,” Liam said, because they had, but there really wasn’t much _to_ say. Liam couldn’t go anywhere until he finished his own degree, but after that, he wasn’t sure what he’d be doing for grad school or employment. He was certainly _willing_ to follow Zayn anywhere, but he was also steadfastly certain that it would take a lot more than distance to threaten their relationship, if they were forced to spend some time apart.

“They’ll be fine,” Harry said confidently. "It's  _Ziam_."

Louis grinned widely and Liam rolled his eyes. 

Zayn meandered back over to the rest of them and and reported, “They said it should be ready in twenty minutes, so I’ll probably head over now.”

“I’ll come with you,” Liam offered, pushing himself out of the pool.

“Cool,” Zayn agreed happily. He reached over to grab a towel and wrapped it around Liam. “So you all in a bit, then.” He waved to Niall, Harry, and Lou and led the way out the gate to his car.

“I love those guys,” Liam said fondly as they approached Zayn’s car.

Zayn chuckled. “Yeah, me too.” As he slid into the driver’s seat, Zayn lifted up the auxiliary cord to Liam. “Your turn to pick.”

Liam pulled out the old iPod nano out of the glove compartment and scrolled through. He’d added several hundred since Zayn first gave him the device, as he explored his musical interests, but found that he mostly listened to Zayn’s core repertoire of songs, anyway. Liam selected Pink Floyd and zoomed down through their long list of songs.

(Liam had been pleasantly surprised to find, when Zayn gifted Liam Pink Floyd’s new album* during their junior year, that it no longer pained him at all to listen to his favorite band. Whereas listening to Pink Floyd had once been a _Liam’s Mother_ Thing, it was now a _Liam and Zayn_ Thing. The realization had brought happy tears to Liam’s eyes, which of course he’d immediately had to explain to Zayn, lest he think the present had upset Liam.)

“Are you feeling M-Momentary Lapse of Reason today, o-or Division Bell?” Liam inquired as he struggled to make a selection.

Zayn pondered for a moment while he backed the car out of their parking spot, rolling down the windows. “Momentary Lapse of Reason.”

Liam hummed in agreement and found “Learning to Fly.”

The powerful thrum of music filled the car, blaring through the open windows as Zayn peeled out of the parking lot and onto the main road. Zayn took Liam’s hand over the gear shift and Liam belted out the lyrics right along with Zayn and David Gilmour—his occasional stutter drowned out by the feeling of music filling his entire person and the fingers interlocked with his own (Zayn’s unspoken, but unwavering reassurance: _I’m right here with you, always_ ).

_“There’s no sensation to compare with this_

_Suspended animation, a state of bliss_

_Can’t keep my mind from the circling skies_

_Tongue-tied and twisted just an Earth-bound misfit, I…”_

 

 

 

*because Pink Floyd is coming out with their first album in 20 years this fall :)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tumblr: [AGreatPerhaps12](http://agreatperhaps12.tumblr.com)
> 
> Gah so many end of story feels. So much to say. Thus, I present A Short List of Things:  
> 1) Whether you’re just dropping in for the first time because this is finally marked “complete,” or I’ve gotten to recognize your username because you comment on nearly every chapter, thank you to everyone who has supported the completion of this story. Your comments and kudos mean the world, and I truly, honestly mean this: LfW would not be finished without you guys. Seriously. Thank you.  
> 2) Another adjacent thank-you: I kind of started this story as a thank-you note, after enjoying reading so many stories in this fandom. You guys have given me so much entertainment, and I’ve fallen in love with so many of your stories, so I hope that this story was that get-excited-when-you-see-updates sort of thing for someone else out there.  
> 3) Thanks for bearing with me despite the decided lack of sexy times haha. And I can’t believe we made it through a 100k-word stutter fic. Hope the dialogue composition wasn’t too annoying at parts.  
> 4) I’m not on tumblr, but I’ll certainly be creeping around AO3, looking for stuff to do (unless I suck at finding things, there’s a marked lack of angsty pray-the-gay-away, religious/homosexuality tension stories in this fandom, but I can’t tell if that’s just because I’m the only one who would be into that…so I may pursue something like that?). If you have something that you’re just like “for the love of god, would someone please write this,” feel free to comment below, or shoot me a message at agreatperhaps12@gmail.com. Even if you don't have prompts, feel free to message me. Always lovely talking to you all!  
> Well guys, I think that’s all. It’s been real. Until next time!


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